Ultimate Inferno
by The Pointed Hat
Summary: Kate - cynical, cold ... a rebel. Fate has chased her into the arms of Valdemar, but her safe haven won't be safe for long...
1. Part One::

Ultimate Inferno  
  
Author's Note: Ahhh! Everything on my account got deleted! What's WITH that!? Anyway - here it is again!  
  
Rapping at the shuttered windows, whistling in the eaves, a harsh wind attacked the castle as if at war with the old stone and mortar structure, trying with tangible might to shove the place over. Trees bowed to the furious gale, birds seemed to be flying backwards, and no living creature could be seen in the courtyard.  
  
Kate glared out of the window as if angry with the world, her eyes a disturbing silver hue that glinted like polished metal with every bolt of lightning. She was using every bit of self-control that she possessed to keep from screaming with rage at her father, who lectured ignorantly onward, heedless of what Kate thought or felt.  
  
"So help me, Kate, if you don't attend your lessons, I'm going to hang you myself!"  
  
Nevermind that Kate could complete the palace obstacle course with her eyes closed or the fact that she could defeat the weapons master in hand to hand combat with a hand tied behind her back. None of that mattered to Pyrte -- her father -- King of this infernal realm of darkness. Because Kate was under-aged, because she was her father's only surviving child, and because she was Heir to the Throne, she was being forced to complete useless courses that decades of tradition decreed.  
  
"You could," she growled at him, continuing to stare unfalteringly out of the glass-paned window, "but you won't." A crack of thunder and streak of lightning coursed the skies again, and Kate watched with sinister pleasure the perilous fate of a sparrow caught in the gale. It was trying, in vain, to make its way into some form of shelter. "Your stupid Kingdom is too important to kill me."  
  
It was the truth -- they both knew it. Pyrte wouldn't dare kill Kate - he'd have a Kingdom without an Heir, then, and the chances of producing viable offspring before he died were literally impossible. Pyrte, though he wouldn't tell a soul, was completely sterile and had been since the age of 40. Which was why, to Kate's dismay, he'd had no other choice but to force the Crown upon his daughter and only child.  
  
Pyrte bit back the words he'd thought of speaking, knowing that Kate was right, and he hated being proved wrong. Anger burned within him as he glared at her back. How she annoyed him! It seemed to him that she always knew just what to say to set him off. Knew exactly what to do to make him tremble with suppressed rage. There she stood, her back to him, as calm as if she were merely watching a tourney. It was a sign of defiance, that turned back of hers, and a habit he intended to break - quickly. He made a swift decision and grabbed her by the back of the neck with one large hand, and shoved her against the wall with his brute strength.  
  
"Now you listen to me," he snapped, his fingers clenched tightly around her throat, "You and that chip on your shoulder had best learn to behave, and behave properly, or you'll find yourself in a world of trouble." Kate stared into his eyes defiantly, even as her skin paled and her lungs screamed for oxygen. When she didn't reply, Pyrte growled and shoved her to the floor, leaving her hunched over and gasping for breath. "Get out of my sight. Now." 


	2. 2

Kate rubbed the bruises on her throat with a slender hand, gingerly assessing the damage she'd sustained from that carnal man whom she called 'father.' The blue and purple bruises were identical imprints of where his hand had been, and she cursed at him under her breath. Where did he get off, slamming her against the wall like he did? She draped her cloak over the mirror and turned to face her bed.  
  
The four-posted thing seemed so inviting, with its down quilts and deep pillows. but Kate couldn't sleep in this tensed state of anger. So, with a resigned sigh, she took herself off to the bathhouse, a long, hot soak in mind. Servants averted their eyes as she walked down the hall, lowering their heads whenever she approached, and scurrying off into their quarters like scared puppies with their tails between their legs. Kate pitied them, however slightly, often imagining how it must be to serve the King of All Evil. She'd decided that she'd rather clean another man's privy before serving her father as they did.  
  
She walked the empty and torch lit halls, her slippered feet padding softly upon the bare stone floors, past closed doors that led to rooms she didn't care to see into, beyond mounted suits of black armor and hanging tapestries that told war tales with their faded weavings. The air in this portion of the castle was always muggy; condensation clung to the walls and made the floors a treacherous place for unwary feet. And in the air, the faint scent of lavender soap wafted, telling Kate that someone had readied a bath for her. News spread like wildfire in dry brush here, which sometimes was a blessing, but most often was a curse. It was terribly hard to keep secrets. Not that Kate had any to keep . yet.  
  
Steam filled the bathhouse and shrouded everything in a white mist, giving Kate the privacy she needed for as long as she needed it. Thick towels and a velvet bathrobe lay neatly upon a tub-side bench, along with fragrant soap and a mug of sweet spring water. Removing her soiled clothing and her undergarments, Kate slid into the scalding water with a long exhale. At least her father couldn't berate her for taking the time to clean up. 'If it's not the what I do,' she thought to herself as she felt those oh- so- tense muscles relax, 'It's what I don't do that he growls about.'  
  
Like a flash, Kate's hand was at the hilt of her dagger, ready to strike, when she realized she'd been shaken awake by a small girl with wide brown eyes. It was only Duine, a peasant maid that had been sent to fetch her. "You'd been sleepin' in the water, Princess," Duine squeaked, her voice wavering as she stared at the clutched dagger. Kate tossed the weapon aside and grabbed a towel. "Thanks," she said, dismissing the servant with a wave of her hand. Shaking her head, she dried herself off and exited the bathhouse in the thick bathrobe and warm slippers. It was a good thing Duine had been the one to wake her. Out of all of the servants in Pyrte's employ, Duine was the only one Kate would tolerate. If it hadn't been Duine who'd startled the Heir, she wasn't so sure she'd have been able to refrain from severing something.  
  
A fire had been lighted in her room, banishing the cold and drafty air from her quarters and casting wan shadows across the floor. There was a plate of food waiting on a table that sat at the room's center, and the wonderful aroma of fresh bread wafted into her nostrils. Kate silently padded over to the table, pulled a chair up to it and sat. There were apple slices and cheese, and honey butter for the bread. Apparently Duine figured Kate needed something different tonight, as opposed to a simple slab of steak and slice of bread.  
  
She continued to gaze out of the window, her thoughts roaming while she ate. 'I hate him,' her mind-voice snarled, 'I should kill him when I get the chance.' Kate snorted at herself and tossed the crust of her bread into the fire, there was an idea. 'They'd never suspect me, the perfect little puppet sitting on her dear old Da's knee.' Smoke curled from the bread as the flames licked hungrily at it, and soon nothing but a little pile of charcoal was left.  
  
Kate went to bed that night with the first inkling of a plan forming in her head. Smashing her pillow down to near nothing, she threw herself into the bed and yanked the quilt over her body, staring into the dancing orange flames in the hearth until well past midnight, the wheels in her head turning. 


	3. 3

Morning found Kate awake and alert, sitting silently beside a crackling fire with quill and parchment in hand. She was pretending to go through her sums, lest a servant walk in to find her staring blankly at the wall and assume she was doing something sinister. which would a correct assumption.  
  
'And he thinks he's so awesome and powerful,' she glared at the parchment and scribbled upon it, 'as though he were the Heir because of his all mighty strength and intelligence.' The truth was, Pyrte had been nothing more than the only surviving son of the family, leaving her father with the Crown. Kate's uncle had been slaughtered at the age of 25, having gone gallivanting off into the wild blue yonder on some self-decreed quest for power. That left Pyrte next in line. In her opinion, the coward didn't deserve to see the end of the week.  
  
She brushed the quill-feather against her nose in thought. She had to rid herself of her father, but how? 'I could hire someone,' but that wouldn't work, for although Kate was the Heir, she wasn't given a cent of her own money. 'I could poison him,' and there, again she had no money, and poisoning required her to be within close range. Kate would rather not be in the same room as her father if she could avoid it.  
  
This was frustrating. Very frustrating.  
  
Kate glared at the parchment angrily and sneered in delight as the edges began to curl under her unfaltering stare. Smoke curled from the singed paper, and Kate got an idea. 'I'll burn the bastard.' Standing, she tossed her 'sums' into the fire and left the quill in her chair, leaving the room with a determined air.  
  
Every person in her father's family had the ability to conjure fire with the simplest of thoughts, but Kate doubted that it had ever been used against someone before. And there was the pitfall. How could she be so sure that it would actually work? Who was to say that the attempt would even work? No one knew, and neither did Kate. So, what she had to do was be sneaky, sneaky and clever like the little black feline she kept as a pet.  
  
By mid-day, the palace was stirring as servants made ready for Court. Every day her father held Court, something Kate seldom attended, and sat in his exalted chair amongst his exalted friends, drinking royal wine and eating royal food. It all made her sick. 'He puts on a play, and every one of us are his puppets, stringed and hinged, moving to his every whim. I'm sick of it.'  
  
She clenched her hand into a fist and marched down the empty hallway that led to her father's stateroom. Shoving open the door with enough force to send it slamming into the wall, Kate stood and glared at the man near the window.  
  
"Ah," he said, oblivious, "coming to Court today, are we?" Before Kate could reply, Pyrte traversed the room and gripped her arm, his jaw clenched in an act that Kate knew meant there would be serious repercussions if she didn't comply. "Not by choice," she retorted, and allowed herself to be shoved toward the banquet-hall. 


	4. 4

Kate ignored the hum of voices as she pondered the rest of her plan. Coming to this little 'party' had not been on her schedule, and so she'd had to revise it. The first opportunity that presented itself, Kate was going to take. And it looked like her chance was coming sooner than she thought . . . Pyrte stood up, and banged his pewter goblet upon the table. Silence descended almost immediately, and Kate got the impression that if it wasn't out of respect, these people fell silent due to stark fear of the consequences if they should happen to disturb the peace. "I," he said rather huskily, the sweet wine having gone to his head after the third glass, "Have an announcement to make."  
  
But Kate didn't wait to hear the rest of his impromptu speech. She closed her eyes, cleared her thoughts, and brought back memories of all of the terrible things her father had ever done to her.  
  
Anger was what controlled the fire, it was what fueled it and gave it life. Anger, like tinder for a fire, that fed the flames and wrought havoc on those they encountered.  
  
She began with the most recent, and delicately fingered the bruises at her neck. In her Mind's Eye, a spark lighted itself within the darkness . . .  
  
Next came an act that happened a mere fortnight ago - now Kate touched the wound just below her right eye, put there by the dulled blade of a dagger. Now the spark was a glowing ember, an emblem in the darkness of her mind that yearned to break free of the constraints.  
  
But this was taking too long. If Kate continued at this pace, she'd never get another chance like the one she'd gotten tonight. She decided to go for the most horrible thing she could think of, and a lump formed in her throat as she recalled the fateful eve. 'Come here, Katie. Daddy wants to show you something.' Back then, Kate had thought that perhaps her dear Da had a gift for her. She'd been too innocent to even suspect . . .  
  
Rape.  
  
White-hot anger flared up in her soul like a wildfire to dry tinder, and suddenly the meager ember became a dragon, and as it grew, larger and larger upon the hatred that fed it - it Ihissed/I.  
  
Kate shot from her chair as though she'd been seated upon a tack, and screamed her rage into the startled silence of the Great Hall, and hell's fury seemed to spout from her fingertips.  
  
The blaze funneled toward Pyrte, catching both he, and his bodyguards, unawares. They blasted against him, consuming everything in sight with an audible roar, growling and slinking as though of its own accord.  
  
Kate continued to use that horrid memory - a scared little Princess of no more than five years old. In nothing but her smallclothes, beneath the quilts that lay atop her father's bed. Her anger rose, and she screamed uncontrollably at him, the flames burning her Iown/I hands in the process. But she paid the pain no heed . . .  
  
Pyrte had barely begun his speech when a strange sound caught his attention and - A raging torrent of flame bore down on him.  
  
He flung up the weakest shield he had mere seconds before the attack hit; the blow knocked him from his feet and sent him sliding to the wall behind the High Table. He uttered a shout of anger and struggled to his feet, adding barricade upon magical barricade to his defense as the seemingly unending wall of flame tore away at his shields. Who could have done this? His first thought was of an assassin. Someone, somehow, had managed to enter the castle unnoticed and made his way into the Great Hall to complete his deadly plan.  
  
But then he heard the cursing behind the flame, and knew instantly who it was. Kate. 


	5. 5

The flames hurled at the King by his own daughter were intense enough to melt even the suits of armor upon the walls of the Great Hall.  
  
Kate's hands were blistered, her clothes were singed and still she continued. Her mother was screaming and tears poured down her scorched face, and still she continued. Through it all, the hate, the pain, the fear - Kate continued. She continued - that is - until a pair of strong hands took her by the arm and flung her from her feet.  
  
She awoke in utter darkness, and for a moment Kate didn't know where she was, but the musty scent of mildewed hay wafted to her nose. A jail cell. Her head pounded and her hands screamed for relief from the relentless pain of third degree burns. What she needed was something cold to drink and a long, dreamless sleep. But when Kate tried to sit up, she found she couldn't move. Fear swept over her, chilling her to the bone in less time than it took for her to inhale, and made her weary body shiver convulsively.  
  
IGet a hold of yourself,/I composure spoke into her mind, Icowardess will get you no where./I  
  
Kate took a deep breath and stared at the wall she'd been forced to face. Step by step, she tested each limb and appendage, and found she was completely paralyzed.  
  
Her hands had been bound behind her back with a bit of magic, a simple spell that even she knew how to operate. Her feet were shackled with simple iron cuffs, but since she couldn't move, she'd have no chance of picking the lock that bolted them.  
  
A jingle of keys and the clomp of improperly sized boots was the only warning Kate got before the door to her cell creaked open, a gruff grunt emanated from the doorway, and a harsh voice cursed at Kate in one of the street languages of the Kingdom slums. "Gerrup, you traitor," he followed his trail of curses with the command and snickered. Of course, Kate was paralyzed and couldn't move even her vocal chords to snap a reply, much less 'gerrup.' "Ha," he spat, the disgusting wad of filth landing centimeters from Kate's nose, "Not s' strong now, are ye?"  
  
When Kate still didn't rise, the guard seemed to take offense. "Alrigh'," he sniffed, "ye won' gerrup on yer own, I'll Imake/I ye gerrup!" He snatched a handful of Kate's waist-length black hair and used it to hoist her to her feet.  
  
Kate's eyes flashed a dangerous black, her only way to respond. 


	6. 6

Grabbing the Princess by her hair, the guard dragged Kate into the King's private chambers. The King sat in a chair, a leather-covered chair, in front of a brisk fire that lit the whole of the room.  
  
Eavan wept silently in a corner, and Kate felt sorry for her instantly, but Pyrte seemed not to care that the woman he'd married and raised a child with was in any form of distress. He cared even less that his daughter had been dragged into the chamber, half-conscious and suspended by a hand that was wrist deep in her ebon hair.  
  
Pyrte showed no outward signs of damage from the flames; the faint scent of burnt leather the only remainder of the whole incident.  
  
The King smiled, rising from his chair in a motion as fluid as if he were the wind itself. "Ah," he said upon seeing her, "Kate." Crossing the room, Pyrte stopped just in front of Kate and lifted her chin with a callused first finger. "So . . . Inice/I to see you." Rage burned behind her inky eyes so fiercely that Pyrte involuntarily stepped backward. But he wasn't taken aback. He seemed amused. That only made Kate angrier. And what happened next, Kate never expected. Pyrte loosed the paralysis spell from her body to the point where Kate was now able to speak of her own free will. Then he leaned even closer to the Heir, and stared her straight in the eyes.  
  
At this proximity, with his wine-scented breath and beady, snake-like eyes, Kate wanted to vomit. "Ogre," she snarled, and spat in his face.  
  
Pyrte took a step back, wiping his cheek with the back of his hand, and then used the same one to strike Kate across the jaw with his full strength.  
  
She yelped in pain, stars forming before her eyes as the first ache of a broken jaw spread across her face.  
  
Pyrte only laughed, sending dear Eavan into near hysterics, and the guard chuckled along with his Master. "Where's your strength now, oh Heir?" Pyrte snarled, a sinister gleam in his eye, "You who thinks she's stronger than the man who created her, where is your prowess Inow/I?!"  
  
He motioned to the guard, who abruptly kicked Kate behind the knees, and sent her crashing to the floor like a sack of stones. If Kate hadn't gotten any bruises yet, she'd have them come dawn - should she live so long.  
  
"Pyrte, please!" Eavan finally found her voice, and scrambled to Kate's side, "Please, Pyrte! She's just a Ichild/I!"  
  
Kate wasn't about to argue with her mother - her only ally at the moment - about whether or not she was a child, and so leaned ruefully into her mother's frail arms.  
  
"A child she may be, but she will Idie/I for what she has done," Pyrte's voice was thin and flat.  
  
"No!"  
  
"Yes, she will, and you can do nothing to stop me."  
  
He reached out a burly arm and shoved Eavan aside, leaving her to sob into the floor. 


	7. 7

Eavan lay on the floor, too stunned to retaliate or even speak, while the guard hoisted Kate to her feet again.  
  
"Take her back to her cell," Pyrte commanded, "She dies at daybreak." The guard snorted a laugh at Kate's expense, and dragged her from the room again, using well-aimed kicks to keep her moving towards their destination.  
  
________________________________________________________________________  
  
Dawn, as was customary in the realm of Darkness, was nothing more than a graying of the skies, lightening what was an utter black to a lighter, though no less gloomier, gray. Kate opened one eye - the one that wasn't swollen shut - forgetting, for a moment, where she was. When the realization came back to her, she nearly snarled out loud. As soon as she opened her mouth, though, she regretted it, because shooting pain blasted over her face, and blurred her vision.  
  
Before she could recover, heavy footsteps in the corridor announced the presence of that drunkard of a guard. He noisily unlocked the cell door, tugged it open, and clomped inside.  
  
Kate squeezed her eyes shut, praying that he'd assume she was asleep. It was no use. "Gerrup!" he shouted, and grabbed a handful of Kate's once faille hair. "T'day you die, traitor!" He shoved her out the door and down the hall, apparently enjoying his line of work, since he found great hilarity in Kate's inability to fight back. The farther they walked down the hall, the more voices Kate could hear coming from outside. She hid her disgust behind a placid mask-like face. 'So,' she determined, 'he's decided to invite the entire Kingdom to witness my death.' They would all watch her die with as much enjoyment as a child watching a parade of flying pigs would . . .  
  
The heavy wooden door at the end of the hall swung open, its iron hinges creaking with age-old strain. Kate fully understood and envied its lament, wishing that she had a life so easy as the life of a door. Funny, the things a person on her last leg of life thought of.  
  
Almost silvery sunlight poured into the square, voices chatted idly amongst themselves and the sounds and smells of a large crowd made themselves known to Kate's delicate senses. She wrinkled her nose.  
  
'Great. My last few minutes alive, and I've got to inhale peasant-stench all the while.' Both of Kate's hands were tied behind her back, and her feet were shackled. To top it off, Kate was in clothing not fit for the beggars that grinned toothlessly up at her. This, she decided, was not how she wanted to be remembered in the history books. 'The Girl Who Cried Fiend,' the books would say, and children years from now would remember her as the disgraceful woman who tried to assassinate her bdear/b father.  
  
She couldn't let Pyrte win. She had to seek revenge. but how? Kate hadn't any more time to ponder, because just then her head was smashed down onto what was known as the 'chop block.' Kate cringed, catching a glimpse of the bloodstained slab of oak before stars filled her gaze and her already battered head throbbed.  
  
"Welcome," said that sickeningly pleasant voice, "to the end of your life." Pyrte sneered at Kate from his place on the dais, drumming the scarred fingers of his right hand upon its arm. "I certainly hope you thought that attempt was worth your life. I know I do, since that's what I'm taking as retribution." 


	8. 8

Again Kate said nothing, on the brink of tears due to the sharp, jabbing pain in her jaw.  
  
Pyrte lifted his hand and made a motion towards someone Kate could not see. Heavy boots clomped nearer, and a man in a black mask stood before her, a smile glinting at her from the slitted air holes.  
  
He lifted an axe to her eye level, licked his thumb, and traced it over the blade. It didn't even mar his skin . If Kate had been able to, she would have trembled. 'A dull blade. They're using a dull blade,' she closed her eyes, 'Please - no more than two swings . . . no more than two . . .'  
  
"Have you any last words, Kate?" Pyrte asked in an all too pleasant voice, and waited with an evil smirk on his face. "No," Kate snapped, or at least tried to, but failed miserably. She was in too much pain to breathe, much less speak. "So be it," he said, and gave the silent signal again. " Kayatice Fitral, for treason to the Crown and attempted murder, your sentence is immediate *death.* Executioner - proceed." The hooded man nodded, hoisting the axe high above his head in order to gain momentum and-  
  
**CRASH**  
  
"Seize him!" shouted Pyrte, and leapt from his seat, "I want him in custody - dead or alive!"  
  
Kate found herself under the weight of a muscular man. He breathed something incomprehensible into her ear before he stood up, leaving her unprotected once again. There was another shout and suddenly Kate found herself able to move freely . . . Her paralysis had been removed!  
  
She swiveled around just in time to watch a tall man - dressed in white - run a guard through with his long sword. Kate caught her breath . . . Black hair framed his face, which was flawless, a pair of intense blue eyes glared angrily, and muscles rippled beneath his clothing with every swing of his sword. This was not a man to fool around with.  
  
Kate liked him instantly.  
  
He grabbed Kate's arm and tugged her along behind him, hacking a path through the masses of guards as though they were simply plants that'd grown too tall. Again he yelled something Kate could not understand, and her fuzzed mind belatedly realized that he was speaking in another language. She wrenched her arm from his grasp and followed behind him of her own free will, running as fast as her battered body would allow.  
  
The white-dressed man dodged down an alleyway, and Kate found herself screaming at him. "Wrong way! Dead-end! Don't go down here!" But alas, he couldn't understand a word Kate was saying, and found out the hard way. They were cornered.  
  
Four guards, all of them heavily armed, crammed their way into the alley, taking one step at a time, bizarre grins on their filthy faces. Kate, like a caged animal, turned to fight, her eyes loosing any hint of sanity. "You'll never take me alive," she hissed at them.  
  
Then the ground seemed to fall from beneath her, icy cold winds whipped around her body, and Kate couldn't see her hand in front of her face. Her stomach flipped and the breath was snatched from Kate's lungs.. 'What the hell?'  
  
As quickly as it had all begun, it stopped. Kate found herself standing in a wide, grassy meadow, the bright yellow glare of the sun making her eyes water profusely.  
  
Her eyes glanced around herself, instantly on the defensive, and rested upon the familiar face of the white-dressed man. He smiled weakly at her and stood, having been kneeling upon the ground so as to clean his blade on a handful of grass. Again he spoke, and reached out a friendly hand, but Kate snatched her hand out of his reach. A look of confusion painted the man's features, but cleared quickly.  
  
::I'm sorry,: said a voice from somewhere, : I'd forgotten you don't speak my tongue.::  
  
Kate blinked, unsure that she'd heard the voice. The white-dressed man's lips hadn't moved . . .  
  
::My name is Dante . . .: said the voice again, and Kate watched the man closely this time. He smiled and nodded. ::So you heard me, then? I had hoped this would work . . . You're Princess Kayatice, I assume?:: Dante bowed and rose again. ::Forgive me for not following protocol, Princess, but we've got to get you to an infirmary before your injuries get any worse.::  
  
The voice was kind and pleasant - and inside her head!  
  
::Come with me,: Dante continued, and walked north without looking to see if she'd follow. 


	9. 9

Kate had no other choice but to follow the man - 'Dante,' Kate reminded herself as she walked a few paces behind him. The wheels inside her head were turning. 'I think it's safe to say that I'm not inside my Kingdom any longer,' she decided, as her eyes examined every tree, flower and living thing they passed, 'I've been rescued. But as to why or how? That's something I'll have to discover later.'  
  
::You're not in your Kingdom anymore, Princess,: the voice interrupted her thoughts and startled her enough to make her gasp. ::Excuse me for interrupting but - when you're thinking to yourself like that, you make quite a lot of noise to a MindSpeaker like myself.:: He had turned to look at her over his shoulder.  
  
'What? Noise? But-'  
  
::You're broadcasting everything you think into my mind, though you don't know it. I suppose we'll have to teach you to train that, hm?::  
  
Kate snarled. How dare he read her thoughts!? It was criminal! 'I'll thank you to mind your own business,' she snapped back at him, still unsure as to how he'd managed to hear her thoughts.  
  
::Try this,: he replied, completely ignoring her retort, :When you want me to hear you.::  
  
In an instant he'd taken control of her mind and showed her the process, and just as quickly released it.  
  
::What the hell did you just do!?: Kate cried loudly, and Dante grinned.  
  
::You've got the hang of it now, Princess, and just in time, too. We're here.::  
  
They'd stopped just outside of an old building, covered in vines and old yellow paint.  
  
::And just where, exactly, is 'here'?::  
  
::The place that's going to repair your battered jaw, of course. Come - inside there'll be a soft place to lay your head.::  
  
Suddenly that sounded VERY good to poor Kate's mind, and she envisioned herself at home in her bed. . . But she could never go back there. Ever.  
  
It seemed her sudden depression was mutual, for the smile faded from Dante's face and he sighed deeply.  
  
::Princess?::  
  
::What.::  
  
::I'm sorry . . .:: ____________  
  
Kate shook her head and walked into the open door of the old building, never giving Dante a response to his silent apology. 


	10. 10

Author's Note: Look! I found the original Chapter 10! Hurrah! Enjoy, guys!  
  
Sunlight filtered through the shuttered windows like little golden lances and dust motes danced in them and seemed to create their own melancholy ballet. Kate looked around the seemingly deserted room with swiftly fading blue eyes. Was no one here? It didn't matter. Kate was in too much pain, now, to think about anything else, and so collapsed upon the nearest cot - however dusty it was. After three days of a rock-hard prison floor, the meagre straw mattress was something of a luxury.  
  
::You must be more tired than I'd expected,: came the soft MindVoice, as Dante entered and closed the door behind himself. The Darkness that surrounded them, then, was like a little touch of home - or what used to answer to that name. ::Just relax while I see what I can find. There should be some supplies around here. At least something to ease the pain a bit. If I can find that much, you should be okay until more help arrives.::  
  
So, this wasn't a one-man show...  
  
Kate nodded, the ache in her jaw - now that the euphoria of battle had subsided - was swiftly making a comeback. What a fine mess she'd managed to get herself into... On the run, seriously injured, and lost somewhere in another realm with a dashingly handsome man in stark-white clothing. But were they truly lost?  
  
Dante returned with a small vile of something in his hands. ::Here. Drink it all.::  
  
Kate snatched the vile from him, eager for something that would ease the pain, and yanked the cork from the slender glass neck. A bitter odor wafted from it, like toxic fumes from poison. 'Maybe it is poison,' Kate's wary mind whispered, and inhibition kept her hand from raising the flask to her ruby lips, 'He's not really here to rescue you... he's an assasin - out for the reward of bringing your head to Pyrte on a platter.' Either way, death was better than the hell she was muddling through now.  
  
She brought the vile to her lips and poured the contents into her mouth; moments later, sleep washed over her like a wave and drown her in dreamless slumber.  
  
** **  
  
The very first time Dante had seen a sketch of the woman he was supposed to rescue, the spark of something he couldn't identify flickered in his brain and refused to fade. He'd volunteered for the mission to the Realm of Darkness without really knowing why he did it. After all, this particular invasion of the Kingdom had been called - among comrades - a suicide mission. Why, then, had he risked life and limb for a Princess born of hatred and despair?  
  
Looking at her now, as she drifted endlessly upon the sea of drug-induced slumber, Dante knew exactly why. He reached a gentle hand out to touch her face, smoothing away the strands of sable hair that'd hidden her perfect complexion from him for too long. Those lips - so soft and yet strong at the same time... Dante longed to kiss them, if only just once, and taste the flavor of her skin.  
  
He smiled even as the angry purple of a bruise covered the left side of her face, sighed as he watched her sleeping, and dreamed of the things he didn't dare speak out loud.  
  
But Dante was a gentleman through and through. He hadn't come here to take advantage of a woman who'd be emotionally unstable, nor had he rescued her only in hopes of becoming something more to her than her hero. He wanted to gain her trust and respect, no matter how long it took.  
  
Hands that were well accustomed to the task ground a powder in a pestle and added water from a rain-barrel that rested like a sentry in the corner of the room. He tore a strip from his tunic and dipped it into the mix, then ever so carefully began to wipe away the blood and grime from the milky- white skin.  
  
'Beneath that mask of hate and defiance,' he thought, 'hides a girl who is afraid to love.'  
  
**  
  
**  
  
Kate came awake all at once, instead of gradually riding from the whispers of a dream she'd been to tired to remeber, and opened her eyes to find she wasn't in her own bed, her own room - and she remembered just exactly where she was (and why).  
  
She discovered that she'd been undressed in her slumber, bandaged and thoroughly cleaned from the waist up. Her hair rustled in her ears as she turned her head upon the pillow, silently taking in all that was around her without the hinderance of blinding pain and fatigue. So, this place wasn't quite so run down as she'd seen it earlier... Perhaps pain did something to enhance the senses. Kate began to sit up, and stifled a groan as her stiffened body complained and protested. She was far from healed, it seemed.  
  
A hint of movement in the corner of her eye made Kate turn her head, and her blue-eyed gaze fell upon Dante, who'd been sleeping in a corner alone. He blinked at Kate with depthless eyes and smiled.  
  
"You're awake," he said softly, "It's about time." 


	11. 11

Kate watched him for a moment more, mesmerized by the stare from those brilliant eyes - like a cold drake. "Aye," she nodded, still lying quietly on her back, "How long have I been - wait." There was something vaguely wrong here. "I - I can understand you..."  
  
Dante nodded, and smiled. "I took the liberty of adding your vocabulary to mine, as well as adding mine to yours. A little Mind Magic. I hope you don't mind, Princess."  
  
Mind? MIND?! He'd just gone and invaded the only thing she had left - without permission - and he wanted to know if she'd MIND? "No," Kate lied, "I don't mind. And stop calling me 'Princess.' My name is Kate."  
  
Dante smiled, "Alright - Kate - and you've been out cold for three days."  
  
Kate nodded meekly. It figured, and no telling what HE'D done in the course of those three days. 'But then again,' Kate speculated, 'Maybe I don't want to know.' To think that the gorgeous man who'd saved her life would do something foul - that was something Kate cared not to fathom. He seemed too goodly for it, anyhow. She'd let him prove her wrong, or right, when the time came.  
  
"You know, you're a lot better than you were when I brought you here, Kate," Dante continued on, oblivious to the workings of Kate's mind, "Except that you've become something of a waif. You haven't eaten anything, you know."  
  
It was true. Kate was nothing more than a skeleton of her former self, and just as pale.  
  
"If you'd like to eat, I have some broth for you. It should still be warm."  
  
At Kate's nod, he smiled and brought her a water-skin, filled to the bursting point with - presumably - warm broth. The delicious scent of rabbit filled her lungs and brought a chorus of noises from her stomach, and she took the thing in both hands. Only when she'd drunk her fill did she hand back the deflated leather bag, wiping her mouth on her arm in a most unlady-like fashion.  
  
Dante lifted his eyebrow.  
  
Kate scowled, "You didn't expect me to be dainty and ask you if you had a kerchief I could use, did you?"  
  
"Well, no..."  
  
"And don't expect me to, either. Do you think a lady would try to kill her own father?"  
  
The only answer she received was a shrug as Dante corked the water-skin and set about building up the fire in the hearth.  
  
"Good answer."  
  
Kate looked around, sighed, and made another attempt to sit up, refusing to be bested by a few simple wounds. "We're not staying here much longer, are we?" she wanted to know, and finally forced her way into a sitting position.  
  
"Maybe two days, that's all." Dante replied, poking red-hot coals with a long stick, "Just until you're well enough to travel."  
  
"What are you talking about?" Kate snarled, immediately offended. "I am perfectly fine, thank you. I can take care of myself." But even as she spoke the words, Kate knew she was lying.  
  
"Look," Dante said, and turned a stern gaze upon her, "Until you can sit up without turning as pale as a Companion we're staying here, got it?"  
  
Kate pounded her fist into the pillow and remained silent. 


	12. 12

Two days passed agonizingly slow for Kate, it seemed, what with the mundane pattern that the days fell into. It was on the dawn of the second day that Kate decided to break that pattern and add some spice to the stuffy little building she'd been resting in.  
  
"Where do you come from?" she asked Dante, out of the blue. The man's eyes shifted from his task at hand and fell upon Kate's face. He smiled and Kate felt her lungs fill with butterflies. "Valdemar," he said, and set aside the shirt he'd been mending. "Why do you ask?" From her position in the makeshift bed, Kate shrugged - carefully. "Well, I'd assume that's where you're taking me . . . right?"  
  
"Aye."  
  
Kate left it at that. She'd have to find out more about this 'Valdemar' later. For now, she wanted to focus on gaining her strength back. From the looks of it, the two of them were walking to Valdemar.  
**  
  
Pyrte slammed his fist upon the desk and growled loudly. His eyes burned with a hatred few had ever seen before, and those who had, well, most never lived to tell about it. "Dammit," he cursed, and glowered at the map again, "Captain. You're sure you've searched everywhere?"  
  
"Yes, Majesty." Captain Zayne was a rugged man, with beady, snake-like eyes and a pointed nose. He looked more like a bird of prey than the leader of Pyrte's private Guard. "We've even searched the Wyrsa territory, and the farmland bordering the Kingdom. We can't find her, sir."  
  
Pyrte swore under his breath and clenched one hand into a fist. "Keep looking, Captain. I want no stone unturned. We will find that traitor, so help me, and we'll teach her a lesson she won't soon forget."  
**  
Darkness had descended upon the little cottage, wrapping it like a velvet blanket. Outside, crickets sang and fireflies danced like prima ballerinas to their tune. Inside, a glowing fire burned, banishing the slight chill from the air and seeming to sway to the crickets' music. Kate, still bandaged, sat silently gazing into that fire, both eyes fixed upon it intensely. Dante sat in a corner, watching the back of the Princess's head. He'd finished mending her clothes earlier that morning and she'd put them back on immediately. He watched her - black hair tumbling down her back, slender body silhouetted against the flames - and despite the fact that her clothes weren't fit for a woman so noble, Dante thought she was the most beautiful creature in the world. Whether she sensed his thoughts or not, she turned and looked him in the eye, and his breath caught in his throat. That piercing stare held him where he was, and he watched as it shifted from a depthless black and into a deep shade of violet. The two colors were nearly indistinguishable, but Dante could tell them apart like night from day. She turned back around and drew her knees to her chest, resting her head upon them with both arms wrapped around. Her breathing evened out, her body relaxed . . . Kate was asleep. Silently, he crawled toward her, white-clad body moving effortlessly across the bare floor, and stopped once he'd reached her side. His blue gaze drifted over her face, and again he longed to kiss her; his hand reached carefully for her face and eased a silky-soft strand of hair from it. He trailed his hand down her cheek, relishing the sensation of her skin against his own . . . but there he paused, and pulled his hand away.  
  
Staring into the flames, Kate had a million thoughts running through her mind, like trapped rats, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't chase them away. Her eyes watered from the intensity of her stare, but she didn't seem to notice. In an instant, she became aware that she was being watched. The feeling of unease that gripped one's throat and made it harder to breathe washed over her. 'It's only Dante,' she reminded herself, but the feeling did not go away. She turned, slowly, met that icy gaze, and found herself swimming in it. It took more strength than she had to pull away from it, and the pure exertion wore her out. She pulled her knees to her chest, rest her head upon them, and closed her eyes. A few moments found her back to normal, but just as she was about to lift her head, she heard Dante move behind her.  
  
Kate froze.  
  
Dante drew nearer and nearer, and Kate forced herself to remain still. Chances were that he thought she was asleep. 'He is only here to tend to the fire,' Kate reasoned with herself, 'He'll be gone in a minute or two.' But she was wrong. Instead he reached up and swept the hair from her face, smoothed his hand down her cheek, made her body tremble . . . Then, when she thought she couldn't feign sleep any longer, he stopped. Was it curiosity? Was it anger? Was it lust that made her do it? Whatever the reason, Kate lifted her head, opened her eyes, and gazed directly at Dante. Then it was she that swept the hair from his face, it was her own hand that trailed down his cheek. It was her own heart that fluttered like a moth in a spider's web, but it was Dante who pulled her gently to him. He cupped her face in one gentle hand, and when he was so near that she could taste his breath upon her lips, he kissed her.  
  
His tongue slid along her lower lip, urging her to open her mouth, and when she finally parted her lips, he swept in, and Kate lost herself in the power of love's first kiss. 


	13. 13

Then the days, or so it seemed to Kate, flew by much too fast. And no sooner had she gotten used to the idea of Dante as a potential lover, he'd announced that they'd be leaving sometime the next morning. Kate had reluctantly agreed to pack what little she had, and stowed it away in a corner of the room. Things seemed gloomy, if an old dank cottage could be any gloomier than it already was, and in a way Kate didn't want to leave it. But she knew - and Dante knew - that the longer they stayed here, the easier it'd be for Pyrte to find them. And when, after a seemingly endless night of worrying, Dante rose from his place on the floor and set about cleaning up, Kate held her tongue and did all she could to help him.  
  
"Bring your things outside," he said at last, after they'd shared a breakfast of cold rabbit and spring water, "We'll pack up and leave as soon as Deyan's ready to go." That stopped Kate in her tracks. "Deyan?" Dante simply smiled and pointed out of the open front door to the place where a white stallion stood at the ready. "Wha . . .?" Kate looked at the horse and then back to Dante, "Where'd HE come from?" "He got here last night," Dante explained, breezing past Kate and out into the sunshine, "I asked him to wait in the village East of here until we were ready to leave." He tied his packs to the animal's saddle and turned to face Kate, who still stood inside the cottage. "Well? Aren't you coming?"  
  
Kate shook herself from her reverie and walked out into the open, squinting as she handed her things to Dante. When was the last time she'd been outside? Apparently it was too long ago. "So . . . how did he know when to get here, then?" she asked, feeling a bit foolish, and more than a little out of place in the presence of the hulking horse.  
  
"I told him, of course." Dante replied, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.  
  
"But - he's a HORSE, Dante. And," she was cut short by a toss of the stallion's head.  
  
::I am not just any horse,:: a voice sternly retorted into Kate's mind, causing her silver-flecked eyes to dart to Dante.  
  
"I didn't say a word," Dante smirked, and tightened the girth on the stallion's saddle.  
  
"Then who-" Kate, once again, was interrupted.  
  
::I did, Dark One.:: the voice said, and the stallion turned its elegant head to face her, ::I am Deyan, and I am NOT a horse.::  
  
Kate clamped her mouth shut on the rest of her sentence and stared directly into the horse's - and why she didn't notice sooner was a mystery - sapphire eyes. A second look told her that this couldn't be just a horse, as she'd postulated earlier. His coat was an unearthly white, shimmering in the sunlight like polished silver. His hooves were silver, and when he walked, they rang instead of clomping. His eyes had no depth to them, as though one was gazing into a deep blue sky - without an end in sight. "So," she managed to choke, "Since you're not a horse, what ARE you?"  
  
"He's a Companion, Kate," Dante replied, mounting swiftly and settling into the saddle, "And a Grove-Born Companion, at that. Come." And he held out his hand. Apparently there was more to this man than Kate could see . . . She gripped his hand and mounted the horse - the Companion - behind Dante, and wrapped her arms around his waist.  
  
"Ready?"  
  
"Ready."  
  
"Alright." Without a word, a command or even so much as a word, Deyan set off, tail swishing, down the path toward - Kate assumed - Valdemar. 


	14. Part Two::

There was a quiet little village just beyond the edges of the city of Haven, filled with tidy rows of neatly kept cottages, cobbled streets, and a central square where women washed their laundry and gossiped around a stately fountain. Sheep and goats called in their pens, and a stray chicken meandered along the quiet streets. A young woman exited her home with a basket of wet clothing under one arm, and hummed a cheery little tune to herself. Just before she closed the heavy door to her cottage, a cat skittered between her feet and off into the woods. "And there you go again, Eavan! I'll not be chasing you about when it's time to come in!" She closed the door and continued her humming, waving one arm to the rhythm she'd created. Her eyes danced and shone like emerald stars as she waltzed down the dirt path and into the woods, and her hair seemed ablaze in the sunlight. She was the only redheaded woman in this village, though she never felt out of place because of it. In fact, she appeared to fit in more than the rest of the girls around here. One thing was certain - as a teen, she never lacked in suitors. However, since most of the boys and men in the village seeking her hand were more like brothers to her, she had always turned them kindly down. "Top of the morning, Caelan!" A cheery voice from the bakery called, breaking her from her thoughts; the lady turned her head to smile at him. "G'morning to you, too, Rowan!" The baker, tough to unfamiliar eyes but kind to any villager he met, grinned his wide grin and stepped outside. "An' 'ow are things with Donas, then?" He asked, still smiling from ear to ear. At this, Caelan's smiled faded only a trifle. "Grand," she said half-heartedly, and widened her grin again. The baker nodded, "Good t' 'ear, lovey! Good t' 'ear!" and turned back to his work. Caelan sighed and continued walking down the path; her eyes focused inward at her own thoughts. The fact of the matter was; she and Donas were NEVER so grand as the village thought they were. Oh, sure, they seemed the perfect couple when the eyes of the town were upon them, but behind closed doors . . . Well; Donas wasn't the virtuous man everyone thought him to be. Her father had introduced Donas to Caelan just before he died, in hopes that one day they'd be married. Caelan's mother had passed away long before Caelan reached the young age of eight, in a horrible storm that ruined everything they had. Connor had sent Caelan away to live with Donas as soon as she'd turned seventeen, and now, three years later, she was still with him. Donas was a kind man, when he didn't want anything, and Caelan loved him dearly, but there were things about him that could CERTAINLY stand a change. She was reminded of last night's fiasco, and delicately fingered the bruise that purpled her cheekbone. She'd done her best to disguise it with what she could find - ground tea leaves, cinnamon, anything remotely skin-toned - and so far her ploy had worked. But there were times when no amount of paint or dye could cover what'd been done. On those days, Caelan stayed inside and tended to things that 'couldn't be put off any longer.' The villagers thought too highly of Donas to suspect anything, even when - for the third time in a week - Caelan came to the square with a bruise 'from Nell', her sweet little milking goat. She was glad for the time she had away from Donas, when he went off to work on the community farm, and she made the best of it. Every morning she'd take a walk through these quiet woods, picking flowers or watching the animals roam . . .. It was her favorite pass time, truth be told, and she'd be happy in a hut made of twigs out here. At last she reached her destination, a sunny little grove just perfect for hanging clothes to dry, and here she set her basket down. For a moment, she looked around herself, drinking in the beauty of the forest in the morning, and then set to work hanging her clothes to dry. All of the white laundry was put into direct sunlight, where the rays would bleach them white, and the colored things were put in the shade, where the warmth of the afternoon would dry them, too. All in all it was a pleasant task, what with the birds singing in the treetops and the forest-things going on their merry way, and Caelan would have said it was the perfect morning . . . until a distant thunder took her by surprise. At first, her eyes darted heavenward, searching for angry clouds, but she spotted none, and so searched the horizon - what little of it could be seen through the trees - for the source of the noise. A flash of white caught her eye - a huge, hulking flash of white, and for a moment Caelan's heart leapt into her throat. What if it was some horrid monster?  
  
:: At ease, Sister.: a voice whispered into her mind, and Caelan breathed a sigh of relief. It was only Dante - who wasn't really her brother, but the two of them were nearly inseparable.  
  
:: Dante?? You've returned!::  
  
:: Aye, Caelan, I have. And I come bearing gifts!:: There was a chuckle in that MindVoice, and so Caelan knew that Dante brought no gifts with him - at least none in the general sense of the word. At that moment, Dante and Deyan rode into view, both of them impeccably white in their Heraldic 'getup'. Caelan smiled and hurried to Dante's side, throwing her arms around him tightly. "Hallo," he smiled, and hugged her back, his wild shock of hair tumbling into his eyes again. Caelan smoothed it back and kissed Dante's cheek. "I was worried about you, you know." She said, and smiled. Then both emerald eyes caught sight of Kate, who was glaring rather evilly at Caelan. "Who's this, then?" Caelan asked, as though she didn't see the daggers in that gaze. "This is Princess Kayatice Fitral," Dante announced formally, "She's the woman I was sent to rescue. Thank the gods I got her here in one piece."  
  
:: There were Wyrsa on our tails the whole time.: Deyan announced, to which Dante gave a rather surprised look. "And you didn't TELL me?" He wanted to know, and shook his head in dismay.  
  
:: You never asked. ::  
** Upon Deyan's back, Kate still sat, both eyes gleaming silver in the sunlight. The instant that redheaded woman had hugged Dante, she'd hated her. 'That's one to keep an eye on,' she said to herself, and dismounted easily. It seemed she wasn't the only one after Dante's affections. She set about unloading her things from the saddle, and slung her bag over one shoulder. A dirt path led away from Dante and the redhead, apparently toward the city. Kate decided to follow, and stalked off in that direction. "Wait!" a voice from behind her called, and Dante loped up beside her. "Where are you going?" "Away." Kate replied in her own tongue, and continued stalking. "But you don't know where we're staying, Kate!" She stopped in her tracks and dropped her things. "And I suppose we're staying with that WOMAN?" she snapped, and crossed her arms. "No," Dante sighed, and lifted Kate's chin with one hand, "We're not . . .. And please don't act this way! Caelan is - well, Caelan's like my sister. In fact, she IS, come to think of it. Even though we haven't the same parents . . .. Don't be like this." That changed things. Apparently this 'Caelan' wasn't a threat at all. Immediately Kate's guard was dropped - partially. "All right," she said, and lifted her bag, "Where are we going, then?" Dante looked to Caelan and motioned for her to lead the way. Caelan smiled. "There's a nice enough place that's been empty a while. The Bryants moved out of it a fortnight ago. It should be just the place for you two." 


	15. 15

Kate and Dante had settled into the house right away, cleaning what needed cleaning and making themselves at home. Just as Caelan had predicted, it was 'a good enough place' for the both of them. On the first morning after their arrival, Dante awoke with the sun and walked the village streets amidst the sunshine and crisp air. He'd slept on the floor, leaving Kate with the old bed, and so hadn't disturbed the Princess from her slumber, but never the less, she'd managed to find him as he made his way past the blacksmith, and stealthily crept up behind him. When he paused to gaze into a shop window, Kate ran her finger up his spine and smirked.  
  
"Ack!" Dante cried, and spun on his heel, determined to capture the culprit. His hand lashed out and snatched Kate's wrist.  
  
"Easy!" Kate retorted, and tried to free her hand, "It's only me!" When she found his grip too tight to escape, Kate quit trying. "And let me go, will you?" There was laughter in her eyes - which now shone a thrilling violet - and she smiled angelically.  
  
"I'm not so easily fooled, Kate," Dante smiled, and pulled the woman closer, then rested his forehead upon her smaller one. "How did you sleep?"  
  
Kate grinned. "With my eyes closed," she said flatly.  
  
"Oh you're hysterical, Kate. A regular Court Jester."  
  
"Am I interrupting?" a lilting voice asked, and Caelan closed the door she'd just exited, then stepped out into the street. Kate heaved a sigh and freed herself from Dante's clasp. Did this woman purposefully intrude upon EVERYTHING? She raked a hand through her hair and dropped it at her side. "No," she said, "You didn't interrupt." It seemed Kate had to lie more and more around these people . . .. And it always seemed that they couldn't tell she was doing it. So much the better - the less they knew about her past, the better. "I'm going for a walk," she said, and breezed past Dante.  
  
"Wait!" he called, but Kate didn't look back, so Dante didn't follow her. Instead, he looked plaintively at Caelan.  
  
"Oh, fine," Caelan replied, "I'll go talk with her," and whisked away after Kate.  
  
Kate fairly stomped from the village and into the woods, fully intending to be alone, until she heard the footsteps of another behind her. Her eyes darkened a shade or two, and she forced a deep snarl back in her throat. Who did that redhead think she WAS, anyway? Kate continued walking.  
  
"Wait!" Caelan called, and hurried up beside the woman, "What's wrong?"  
  
"Nothing."  
  
"I know something's wrong, lovey," Caelan persisted, "I've got a wee bit of Empathy, you know."  
  
"Wonderful."  
  
"I only want to be your friend, Kate," she said, her eyes clouding for a moment.  
  
"Well maybe you should go and find yourself a WEE kitty and make friends with IT." Kate snapped, her arms folded over her chest as they continued deep into the forest. For a moment Caelan was silent, as though she were trying to make sense of what Kate had just said. Soon enough, however, she shook her head and spoke. "I don't see why you hate me, Kate, when you've only just met me. I'm not that terrible, am I? Have I done something wrong?"  
  
"No," Kate kicked at a pebble, "I just hate redheads, that's all."  
  
They didn't speak for a while, after that, and the two women continued into the woods, even after the game trail they'd been following disappeared beneath the dense foliage. Meanwhile, Caelan's mind was working away, and when they'd gone quite a distance, she broke the silence.  
  
"I don't think that's very fair," Caelan protested, walking around a fallen log. "You've only known me for two days - hardly long enough to judge!"  
  
Kate was about to object when she noticed something odd. She looked around, letting her gaze scan the forest until it rested upon Caelan's face.  
  
"What?" Caelan asked, pausing mid-stride.  
  
"Listen," Kate whispered, "Do you hear that?"  
  
The redhead tilted her head to one side and listened. She heard not a sound. "Hear what?" she asked.  
  
"Exactly," Kate replied, "How many forests do you know that are dead silent?"  
  
"Good point."  
  
Kate rolled her eyes. Of COURSE it was a good point. Kate was an excellent - well, an excellent everything. "I get the sneaking suspicion that we're being followed. The question is . . . by whom?"  
  
This wasn't comforting in the least. Caelan let her eyes scan the woods, searching for a familiar landmark and finding none. Followed? Who could have followed them all the way out here? A rustle in a nearby shrub caught both of the ladies' attention. Something was watching them - Kate could feel it. Was it an assassin? Sent from her father's forces to find and destroy her? "It can't be," she mumbled to herself as her eyes shifted from their previous silver hue to a ghostly black.  
  
"Can't be what?" This odd woman had Caelan perplexed. She talked to herself, she was jumpy, and those kaleidoscope eyes just weren't right! And now she was walking around as though she expected someone to leap out from behind a tree and sing a merry tune.  
  
Kate didn't reply for a long time, searching the trail they'd walked in on for signs of life that'd gone otherwise unnoticed. She found nothing, only sets of paw-prints in the topsoil. "Caelan? Come and look at these." Caelan lived around here; perhaps SHE'D be able to tell what made the tracks. "What do you make of them?"  
  
Emerald eyes examined the prints, and Caelan's skin paled. "Bloody hell . . .."  
  
That didn't sound good.  
  
"What?" Kate asked, staring at Caelan for what seemed like hours. The woman didn't respond - it was as though she hadn't even heard the inquiry.  
  
"Dammit!" Kate yelled, and yanked Caelan to her side with one powerful tug, "I asked you a question!" Caelan blinked and stared at Kate for a long beat before licking her lips. "Wyrsa." She snapped, and wrenched her arm away.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Wyrsa, Kate . . .. I was too bloody ignorant to realize we'd wandered right into their territory." One fist clenched, the green-eyed woman pounded a tree trunk. "And we're too far into their land to escape before they attack."  
  
"So? We'll fight back. They can't be that bad. I've got my FireStarting Gift, we can beat them with a hand behind our backs."  
  
"No. No we can't, Kate."  
  
"Oh? And I suppose you're going to tell me they're immune to fire, then?"  
  
"No. Your FireStarting Gift isn't of any use here."  
  
"Like hell it's not," Kate snapped, and aimed at the nearest shrub. Nothing happened. "My - my Gift!" she cried incredulously, "It won't work!"  
  
In a gesture that said 'I told you so', Caelan shook her head and began retracing her steps. "And none of my magic will work against them, either. They drain anything with even a HINT of magic and eat it."  
  
"Eat it? You mean the magic?"  
  
A nod. "As though it were meat."  
  
"Damn . . .. Then what do we do?"  
  
Caelan stared Kate directly in the face. "What do we do, Kate? We run." 


	16. 16

Those words did not compute. "Run?" she asked, even as the two of them began to slink away, "Like cowards?" She was of the opinion that they stop and fight. After all, how bad could a few of these things be?  
  
As though Caelan had read Kate's mind, she said, "They aren't ordinary animals, Kate. They've the body of a dog, the scales of a snake, sulfurous eyes and teeth that drip venom. One bite and the next face you'll see belongs to the Shadow Lover."  
  
Now Kate understood why Caelan was running instead of putting up a fight. But couldn't they prepare traps? Couldn't they use deadfalls and snares and pikes? She wondered about this, and told Caelan as much. "We can't use magic, but that doesn't mean we can't find other things that will work against them, Caelan. They can't be any worse than a pack of wolves - I mean aside from the venom."  
  
"True," Caelan replied, still heading back the way she came, "But I'd rather not stick around to find out. They're smart, Kate. Bloody smart. What one learns, it can teach to the others. They all share a sort of memory bank, each one of them can tap into it and learn what his brothers and sisters already know. If we try one trap, they'll figure it out in no time at all. We don't stand a chance."  
  
"But - we can't just give up!" Kate would have given anything for a good sword right now; there was nothing she liked more than the feel of cold, balanced metal in her hand. And, if she had a sword, she'd have a much better chance against these creatures. "And besides - SOME of our traps have to work! We can set some that these things haven't seen before. And if we injure a few, maybe the rest of them will think twice about chasing us; they're so smart." She seemed smug.  
  
"Aye, some of them will work, but how long does it take to set a trap? The pack will be on us before we're even half of the way through, Kate."  
  
A howl in the distance . . .. The pack had found their trail, and weren't far behind. "They're close," Caelan whispered, and sped up her pace. But Kate didn't follow. "Kate? What are you doing!?" Caelan stopped herself and turned back to face the woman. "I can't just run, Caelan! All my life I was taught that you don't give up without trying! I'm not going to run from something I've never seen when I know I can at least TRY to stop them!" She was setting snares in the brush, stripping supple branches of their leaves with a dagger, bending and manipulating them until she had created a makeshift snare or two. Caelan ran up to the woman and grabbed her arm. "Those won't DO anything, Kate!"  
  
"The snares will slow them all down! They'll give us a head start!"  
  
Right again - another point for Kate. "All right - so we've slowed them down a wee bit - NOW what!?" She grabbed onto Kate's arm and carted the woman off, nearly dragging her from her feet.  
  
"How high can the Wyrsa jump?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"How high can they jump!?"  
  
"How on EARTH would I know something like that, Kate!?"  
  
"Well, don't look now, Caelan, but the pack is right behind us!"  
  
"Dear gods . . .." Despite Kate's warning, Caelan looked behind herself anyway and saw the yellow glow of a dozen pairs of eyes seeming to float through the underbrush. Her own eyes widened and she gripped tightly to Kate's arm.  
  
Meanwhile, Kate's eyes had been scanning the trees around them frantically, searching for the escape route they so desperately needed. What she wanted was a tree with branches that were low enough to climb, but high enough to keep the Wyrsa from following. What she found, however, happened to be the closest climbable tree. "Up, up!" Kate cried, and shoved Caelan ahead of her. Caelan - white faced and wide eyed - gripped the highest branch she could reach and tried to pull herself up. It was no use! Caelan wasn't the strongest of women, and as she attempted to swing herself up into the safety of the tree, she felt Kate crash into the back of her legs as the momentum of her run met Caelan's stationary body. "Hey!" she cried, her grip loosened from the limb. She toppled to the ground and landed in a heap of rose-hued skirts.  
  
"Dammit, Caelan!" Kate yelled, and hoisted the woman to her feet. "Look, I'll give you a leg up - now HURRY!" Suddenly the woods quieted again, and the sound of a pack of panting Wyrsa filled the air. A chill raced up Kate's back; she knew they'd been surrounded.  
  
Caelan scrambled onto the tree branch and turned to help Kate, only to shriek loudly, "Kate, look out!" A scaled beast shot from the brush with a blood-curdling snarl and headed directly for Kate's leg! The woman yelped and heaved herself into the tree, her arms straining, just as the Wyrsa clamped its jaws around Kate's foot. Kate seemed to growl back at the thing and kicked at it with her free leg, aiming for its eyes and nose - she couldn't let its venom get to her skin! The Wyrsa shook the boot from side to side, the very leather of the black shoe melting away as it came into contact with the acidic venom.  
  
"Forget the boot, Kate! Take it off!" She grabbed onto Kate's arm tightly, "Look - I've got you - now reach down there and unbuckle your boot!"  
  
Kate nodded grimly and let go of the branch with one hand, reached down toward her boot, and released the catch. The Wyrsa nearly fell backward as the boot came off of Kate's foot, then proceeded to tear the thing to shreds. Kate immediately turned and scrambled into the tree, panting. 


	17. 17

"Two hours," Caelan sighed wearily and leaned her head against the rough bark of the tree, "We've been here for two bloody hours and not a soul knows where we are!"  
  
"I don't get it," Kate was still watching the rustling in the brush that meant the Wyrsa still had the tree surrounded, "They just STAY. It's like they're patrolling, out on watch. Look - see that one right there? He's been there the whole time. He hasn't left. And I know it's the same one because he's got a scar on his muzzle," she brushed her finger across her nose, "Right here. And he paces - back and forth, back and forth - never takes his eyes off of us, either." She faded into silence.  
  
Caelan watched the woman as she spoke. Kate seemed deep in thought, analyzing what she saw with an air about her that said it was a common practice. Strategy, analysis - she's a Monarch through and through. Years of schooling and hard work had gotten her to this point, no doubt. And whether it was voluntary or not remains to be seen.  
  
"What are you thinking?" she asked, and leaned forward.  
  
"Well - they have lookouts. Probably here to make sure we don't leave the tree-"  
  
"-and to warn the others if we do."  
  
"Right."  
  
"So. . . . ?"  
  
"So; what if we found a way to distract the lookout and get out of the tree? By the time they'd come back from hunting down our ploy, it'd be too late."  
  
It sounded logical enough in Caelan's ears, but her brain told her that this was merely wishful thinking. How could they ever hope to escape when an entire pack was on the prowl? Surely there was more than one sentry.  
  
"I don't know," she said to Kate, and let her eyes wander the forest floor, "There have to be more of the lookout Wyrsa."  
  
"Then we have to make a big enough distraction to lure them all away."  
  
"I don't see how-"  
  
Kate interrupted. "Don't be such a pessimist. You're a Mage. I've got my Gift. We can devise some sort of plan, can't we?"  
  
Caelan shook her head and sighed. "Remember? We can't use magic."  
  
"That's right . . . Damn it!" How had she forgotten something so vital? That was a serious error. A very serious error. One that Kate could never make again, lest she loses her life in doing it.  
  
Stupid girl! She berated herself, after all of the years of schooling, you still so clumsily forget?  
  
Something about this place was getting to her, and it wasn't just the foreign aspect of it. Kate sensed that something about this land was changing, and she wanted to find out what.  
  
Just not right now.  
  
Kate pulled a twig from the branch she'd been sitting on and tossed it to the ground in meditative thought.  
  
A lightning-bolt of green shot from the brush; Caelan gasped.  
  
"What the hell?" Kate swore, and looked questioningly at Caelan.  
  
"They're set to kill," she replied, "look how they just leap out after anything that touches the ground!"  
  
As darkness descended over the forest, Caelan and Kate were still in the tree, surrounded by Wyrsa and without a hope of escaping their interest – or their jaws.  
  
Caelan lay nestled in a little hollow made by a few overlapping branches, her eyes growing heavier and heavier by the moment, and stared out through the leaves. Interesting, she thought, how the leaves seemed to turn a coppery color when the light of the setting sun touched them. She closed her eyes and imagined that she was a bird, soaring high above the forest floor, free from the leering glare of the Wyrsa. She envisioned herself swooping down to taunt the pack; talons were good weapons to have when one was a winged thing. And if she were a bird, she could soar back home with nary a care, unharmed and unhurried. Then, as her imagined bird soared, it came across her hometown, with its little cozy cottages and warm hearth fires burning. She could even see Donas, sitting on the doorstep of their home, waiting for Caelan to return. Odd how things looked so real from this point of view; the woman imagined she could even hear him grumbling about his empty stomach. She winged to the left, away from that scene, and pictured the home of Dante, quaint and tidy, sitting near a babbling brook. Dante was sitting out on his door step, a worried expression on his face. 'They've never been gone this long before,' he said, and Caelan was struck by the genuine look of worry on his imaginary face, 'Where could they be?'  
  
'We're here!' Caelan's bird-form shouted, 'We're in the woods - stuck in this tree! We're surrounded by Wyrsa!' But it was no use, for Caelan was a bird, and she was only imagining. But the image of Dante looked sharply up and stared right into the bird's eyes, then sprinted off to the left and out of Caelan's line of sight. She flapped her fantastical wings hard and soared upwards, searching for Dante. Where was he? Where could he be? And where had he gone!?  
  
She continued searching, looking high and low, left and right, in and out - he was nowhere to be found. And, when Caelan's imaginary bird could no longer fly due to exhaustion (could imaginary things grow weary?) she settled in the eaves of the barn and tucked her head under her wing . . .   
  
. . .just as a high bugle shattered the silence like a hammer to glass, and sent Caelan leaping from her alcove and nearly falling from the tree. She managed to save herself from going over when her outstretched hand clasped a handful of leaves, along with Kate's shoulder.  
  
Kate stifled a startled yelp and clung to the branch with all of her might, hoisting Caelan back up with an effort, and at the same time scanning the ground for what could have made such a noise.  
  
But Caelan knew what - who - it was, and her eyes lightened considerably.  
  
"Dante!" She shouted, standing up on the branch and waving one hand about wildly, "Dante, we're up here - but be careful!"  
  
Kate stood, too, and found herself eagerly searching for Dante's face amidst the forest plants - only because she wanted to be rescued, she told herself - and couldn't help but smile. If Dante was here, they could certainly defeat this hoard of beasts! 


	18. 18

A/N: Yeah, hey - sorry for taking so long on the last chapter! I hadn't intended for such a lapse in my updating but, well, you all know how crazy things can get sometimes! But now that it's summer-time, I won't have quite so many time restrictions! Okay - back to the story!  
  
From the tree, two pairs of eyes watched as Dante and Deyan burst into view, shredding the plantlife around them in their haste to reach the girls. Dante was covered in a fine sweat, Deyan's coat glistened with the first signs of it, too, and both of them were swinging left and right as Wyrsa after Wyrsa lunged at them.  
  
'What a partner to have,' thought Kate, admiring those dagger-like hooves and the way Deyan put them to use, 'What a weapon to cover your back in times of war!'  
  
And it was true - Deyan made a formiddable opponent to even a man with a sword, and his apearance fooled many an ignorant enemy when they took him for what he appeared to be - a horse.  
  
There was movement in the bushes behind Deyan, and Kate's eyes narrowed on it like a hawk's to prey. A dark and lithe form misted through the shadows, heading directly for Deyan's flanks. Kate slipped from the tree as quietly as a cat, her slender body moving swiftly over the ground as a mighty huntress might, with feet that made no sound on the pine needle-carpeted forest floor.   
  
Caelan had been too absorbed in what Dante was doing to notice that Kate had gone, but when she spotted that leather-clad body lurking through the underbrush, her heart leapt into her throat.  
  
"No, Kate!" she hissed the whisper as though it might reach Kate's ears that way, "Don't be foolish!"  
  
However, no amount of whispering or even shouting was going to bring Kate back into the safety of this tree, and Caelan wasn't too stupid to realize that. She clung to the trunk of the tree with both hands and prayed to the Goddess that no harm would befall her best friend and his - what, his lover? Surely they were together, given the way Kate looked at Dante whenever she was near him - but... Dante had never mentioned anything about it!  
  
Caelan was startled from her thoughts when one of the Wyrsa let out a terrible shriek, and the woman looked up to see that it'd been impaled upon Dante's sword. Gruesome, to say the least - and where had Kate gone!?  
  
Kayatice Fitral, Master swordswoman, spy, street fighter and Fire Mage, slunk through the bushes like a snake. If there was anything out here that didn't belong, she'd slice it to bits first, and ask questions later. It was a good policy, if Kate said so herself, and one that the woman followed almost religiously. Closer and closer she went, into the fray of teeth and claws and swords and hooves, using the chaos of the fight to cover her stealthy movements. She continued on, expecting to discover one of the Wyrsa, lingering behind to take its cue from the others whereupon it'd move in for the kill and finish Dante of Deyan off. What she found she'd been chasing, instead, was the leader of the pack - the Alpha - and it was looking mightily disgruntled.  
  
What passed for the creature's ears were laced flat against its skull, and it now stood at ready, watching its pack lessen in numbers with every passing moment. At random intervals it would yip or bark; Kate got the impression that it was giving out orders. And what had she learned so long ago in her schooling? 'Taking out an officer demoralizes the troops, but taking out the Captain leaves them in chaos.' Kate would bet her left arm that the exact effect would happen here, and in that case, drew her swords and moved onward.  
  
'Here I am,' she glared at the beast, 'Come and have a taste of your own poison!'  
  
The Wyrsa's snake-like head whipped around, staring Kate in the face with its sulferous eyes for a split second before lunging at her.   
  
Kate's blade met teeth half way, the Wyrsa closed its jaws upon it and aimed at wrenching the hilt from Kate's hands, but the woman had been prepared for such a trick, though her mind had never expected the beast to bite her blade - Kate had always been able to think on her feet. She met the force with an equal amount of her own and jerked the blade back, snapping it around again to the front of her body, level with the Alpha. Something akin to a growl hissed from the creature's throat, and it bared it's nasty yellowish teeth. 'Venomous teeth,' Kate reminded herself, and lashed out again with the sword.  
  
The last thing Kate thought about when the fangs sank into her arm was, 'How could I have missed!?' Then her world heaved, she fell to the ground, and knew nothing more.  
  
For two days, Kate tossed in the hell of a world of nightmares. She saw the horrid face of her father, the sneer upon his lips when he ordered her beheading, the way he seemed to enjoy seeing her in pain. There were many of them, each more hellish than the first, all of them beginning with the same, emotionless line, 'Where is your strength NOW, oh Heir?' In some of the dreams, Kate would escape, set the castle aflame, live on with the knowledge that her father was dead. But in others - the ones that had her thrashing in cold sweats - Kate hadn't fared so well. She could see her stiffened body being dragged from the dais, see the repulsive glee on Pyrte's face. Kate was watching her own death over and over again, and was powerless to stop it.   
  
  
  
She awoke, one morning, to find herself being stared in the eyes by a young woman with chocolate-brown hair. It framed her face in tight ringlets, fell down her shoulders and back, and somehow it seemed to compliment the green in her robes. "Well hallo, there! You're awake, then? I thought I heard something over here..."   
  
Kate's first reaction was anger. She was being treated like a child and loathe to think of herself as one - she was not, after all, an infant - and this woman seemed to enjoy cooing at Kate like a mother babbles at her child. A cool hand touched Kate's face, pressed a cup of water into her hands and examined the bandage on Kate's right arm. "Drink this, love, you need it." Obviously the woman thought Kate was daft, else why would she instruct on what to do with a cup of chilled water? 'This is ludacris,' she thought, downed the water and nearly threw the cup at the woman in green. Kate hoped she wouldn't have to be in here for long. She didn't think she could handle much more baby-talk and infantile instructions. "We were starting to think we'd lost you," the woman said from one end of the room - Kate couldn't see what she was doing, since her eyes were still a blurred from the venom - "Been two days, and you'd been thrashing in your sleep. Fevers like you wouldn't believe. Aye, we were certain-sure you'd not make it through another night, but here we are!" Altogether too cheery for Kate's tastes. Damned pep. Damned vigor. Damned high spirits.   
  
"Yes, here we are. " she grumbled sarcastically, closing her eyes again - if only to keep from looking at the ray of sunshine over there in green robes. "Damn near dead and annoyed as hell by some woman who speaks to me as though I'd just passed my fifth birthday. Oh, what a grand bit of luck I've had, hey?"  
  
Either the woman didn't notice Kate's sarcasm, or she ignored it. "You're lucky, you know. Wyrsa bite-victims seldom survive. If that redhead hadn't have gotten you in here in time, you'd have died. Thank the gods that she'd the help of her Companion!"  
  
Companion? Caelan didn't have a Companion... did she? "Redhead?"  
  
"Oh, a sweet little thing in a tattered, rose-coloured gown, I think it was. Dragged you in here off the back of a Companion, she did. And not a moment too soon. One mark later, and you'd have been beyond repair."  
  
Sweet. Why was it everyone thought Caelan was sweet? Stupid was more like it. Brainless, maybe. Helpless was a good word, too. "And you know, I think it was a Grove Born that got her here so fast - even seemed prettier than usual."  
  
"Oh, Deyan? He's Dante's Companion... Caelan doesn't have one, she's not the type of person to-"  
  
"His name is Pasan, and he's mine, Kate. Deyan was with Dante all the while, keeping the Wyrsa off of our trail. Not that they'd have been able to keep up." Caelan closed the door behind herself and smiled at Kate happily. 'Great,' Kate rolled her eyes, 'Just what I need - more cheer.'   
  
"Oh, gee. That's wonderful," she lied, and left her eyes closed. "Too bad I wasn't conscious long enough to see him. I'm sure he's the bee's knees." Were these people TRYING to make her life a bigger living hell than it already was?? "Sorry to burst your bubble, but I think I'd rather have my eyes gouged with hot pokers than stay awake and listen to you two go at it." A curmudgeon, Kate decided, was DEFINITELY better than a ray of sunshine. She tugged the thin blanket up to her chin and flopped over onto her side, refusing to speak to either of them. 


	19. 19

Somehow it seemed that centuries had passed before Dante came in to check on Kate. He found her lying with her eyes closed tightly, pulling a face of sheer disgust that would have caused most mothers to declare, 'if you keep making that face, it'll freeze that way.' Dante had a feeling that Kate wasn't in the best of moods. He looked to Caelan and the Healer - who still chatted softly in one corner of the room - and inclined his head toward the door. Caelan took the hint, of course, but the Healer refused to leave. "I have a patient to look after, and that's what I'm going to do," she protested as Dante tried to usher her out the door, "What if something happens while I'm out? What if she lapses into fevers again?"  
  
"Annali," Dante said with an exasperated sigh, "If there's any trouble - any at all - I will call for you, you can be certain of that. Besides - you'll be just outside the door, there, eavesdropping all the while. You'll know if something comes up."  
  
The woman looked mortified, her wide-eyed expression would have sent Kate into fits of laughter, had she been 'awake' to see it. "Surely you aren't suggesting that I am that shameful!" she exclaimed, stared Dante in the face. "I have never, in all my days-"  
  
"Annali, you're the biggest gossip in the Collegium," Dante smiled, and ushered her out the door, much to the Healer's chagrin, "But don't worry, I'm sure you'll have plenty to tell the ladies at home when Kate's through with you." He closed the door, then, and left Annali wondering just what it was Dante was talking about.  
  
"All right, you," Dante strolled to Kate's bedside, stared at her back with his guileless eyes, "I know you're not sleeping - no sleeping creature on earth makes faces like that." He pulled the blankets from beneath her chin and gently grasped her hand. "Open your eyes," he said, "It's much better looking into them than that scrunched-up scowl you're wearing."  
  
Obligingly, Kate opened her eyes, "It took you long enough to get here," she said, hurt in her voice, "I was beginning to think you'd fallen from the face of the earth."  
  
"Caelan was here," he began, and was cut off.  
  
" Sure, Caelan was here - she made damned sure that everyone knew it, too! Did you see how she just sat in here and babbled incessantly about her Companion, as though SHE were the one who nearly died? Nevermind me, the woman who is still lying in bed. I don't know how you stand her. Conceited little-"  
  
Now it was Dante's turn to cut Kate off. "Kate, enough." Clearly, Dante determined, Kate was feeling the pangs of jealousy. She didn't have a Companion, and Caelan did. Caelan could walk about as she pleased, Kate was stuck in a tiny room on a tiny bed with no contact with the outside world. Not to mention the fact that she'd grown up in a palace, accustomed to being waited on - hand and foot - and constantly the center of attention. Now she was in a strange land, full of strange people and even stranger animals, and no one seemed to care how she was faring, not even when she'd had a close brush with death. Now he understood the bitterness in her voice, and the report from Caelan that the Heir was being less than grateful. "I'm sorry," he soothed, offered a half-smile and patted Kate's hand. "Caelan isn't that bad - she's got a good heart, and she's very strong-willed. You should get to know her..."  
  
"I think I'd rather go back into the woods and get to know that Wyrsa," her reply was curt, bitter, but Dante smiled.  
  
"She truly isn't evil, Kate, just new to you. You're used to the high life, while all of us here are used to hard work and depending upon our own two hands." For emphasis, he kissed her bandaged one. "We have different ways of life, here. Ways that you'll come to know and love soon enough. Just give it some time."  
  
For a long while, Kate stared up at Dante in silence, turning his words over in her head. Give it some time... Hadn't she given it enough already? Wasn't a few hours in the branches of a tree enough time? How Dante could ask that she give the Irish-woman more time was beyond her reasonings. . . but somehow, as she looked up into the eyes of the only man she'd ever kissed, Kate decided that she COULD give it some time. For Dante's sake, anyway. "Fine," she snorted, and was rewarded with one of the Herald's heart-melting smiles.  
  
Annali wasn't eavesdropping - at least that's what she told herself when she whisked away outside and around to the window that looked into Kate's room - since she couldn't hear anything, she could hardly be eavesdropping, considering that it required the ability to HEAR a conversation. She shaded her eyes and peered inward, her perspective slightly skewed by the thick, bubbly pane of glass in the frame, and tried to figure out just what was going on.   
  
Things seemed pretty dull; Dante sat down upon the mattress, pulled the blankets from under Kate's chin. The back of two heads was not the greatest view in the world, but Annali could think of a worse one. Like no view at all.   
  
She watched Kate turn and look up at Dante, watched a pair of lips moving in speech - blast it, she wished she could hear what the two of them were saying! - and then saw Dante lift Kate's hand and kiss it. A romance? Could it be? No - Dante was being polite. After all, the ladies of the Collegium were certain he was shaych. Gods knew they'd tried every trick in the book to get him into their clutches, but Dante hadn't a girlfriend in his entire life. Not even one. Annali shook her head. No, Dante was certainly not involved with this woman, he was simply taking off his shirt. The Healer did a double-take and squealed with excitement. Dante HAD removed his shirt! She strained her eyes to see more, furious that the infernal glass was of such poor quality, and when Kate leaned slowly upwards and kissed Dante, she nearly leapt from her hiding place. Wouldn't the girls at home be thrilled when they heard about THIS? And they thought Dante was shaych! Annali finally had the proof that she'd needed all along. She could just picture it now.  
  
The next time she and her friends got together for an early afternoon luncheon, she'd tell them all over tea. 'He pulled off his shirt for her, and then that outlandish woman leaned up and kissed him full on the mouth!' So what if she'd only kissed his cheek - they'd never know! - she could even go so far as to add her own ending onto the story. Oh, how they'd envy her, then! She'd be the ruler of the roost from that point on. Annali's eyes glazed as she imagined the possibilities. . .  
  
". . . and this one needed ten stitches," Dante pointed to one of the larger wounds on his chest gingerly, careful not to touch the reddish-purple skin around it that was - and would be for some time - very sore. "More evidence of my valor and strength," He smirked. "Though it seems rescuing damsels in distress is harder than it sounds in the ballads, hey?"  
  
"Valor and strength, ha!" Kate teased, "If that's what you call valor, I think I should have a wing in this Collegium named after me for what I did out there."  
  
"Oh, yes. Getting bitten and nearly dying - so very courageous, Kate."  
  
"Isn't it, though? I think I shall have one of your Bards write a song about it for me."  
  
Dante groaned, put his shirt back on. "Don't give them any ideas, Kate. It's bad enough they write about grass and trees and things that don't rhyme or have rhythem... Then they decide they're going to write a song about a woman from OutKingdom who nearly dies because she stormed out into the forest alone. Wonderful song. I can just hear it now, and they're playing it in minor key, too. Such a sorrowful tale!" He began to sing. "Oh, Kate got bitten - she wasn't wearing a mitten - she gave it to her kitten . . ."  
  
"Enough, enough!" Kate thwapped him over the head with a pillow. "I got the idea, thank you, dying songbird."  
  
"What, is my singing that bad?"  
  
"It's worse. No more!"  
  
"What? Did I hear you ask for an encore?" He cleared his thoat as though to start again, but this time - instead of a pillow - Kate aimed a fist at him and prepared to strike. Dante laughed, waved his hands at her in defeat. "All right, all right - I see how it is. Hate a Herald just because he can't sing. . ."  
  
"I don't hate you." Kate's voice was suddenly quiet, her eyes seemed to have darkened to a deep shade of blue. She'd lowered her fist into her lap, found herself gazing almost longingly into Dante's eyes.  
  
To see him staring - steadfast - back at her. . . Kate's heart fluttered.   
  
Annali, still outside the window, was so absorbed in her own delusions that she never saw what would have been the crowning glory to her tale.  
  
Dante lifted one strong hand to Kate's face, so close to her that he could taste her breath upon his lips, and kissed her. 


	20. 20

Through Kate's desire to leave the dull, dreary life of being an invalid, for all that Kate wished she could be outside in the sun and elements, she couldn't get her mind off of how great a kiss Dante could give her when she wanted one.  
  
One week's time had given her plenty of opportunities to discover that little fact, much to Annali's pleasure. The spritely, young Healer was the envy of her circle of friends, now, and was blossoming in the spotlight. It meant that she was a sight more cheery during the day; if, Kate shuddered, it was humanly possible.  
  
She was altogether fed up with being kept in the tiny, plain room, and wished ferverently for something else to look at besides pale green walls and an equally pale ceiling.  
  
"A mirror! Give me a mirror and I'd be happy!"  
  
Even looking at her own reflection was better than the same four walls day in and day out!  
  
There was a gentle knock on the door just then, and Kate's voice quieted at the prospect of seeing - she hoped - a new or welcome face. "Who's there?"  
  
"It's Caelan. . . may I come in?"  
  
'Damn,' Kate grimaced, 'More dancing glee and sunshine.' She schooled her expression into one of neutrality. "Uh. . . Yeah?" It sounded more like a question, to Kate's ears, and she hoped it didn't come across as one to Caelan.   
  
The door eased open and Caelan's red-haired head peeked in. "Bright the morning, Kate!" she chimed sickeningly, and Kate stifled the urge to moan in disgust. "You know, a little birdie told me that today is to be your last day in Healers," Caelan said, and let herself into the room in one fluid motion, "Well - actually it was a big Companion, but I didn't think it'd work the same as 'little birdie.' Anyroad -- Annali and the others think you're well enough now that you can have your own room in the Palace long enough for us to figure out where to keep you."  
  
"Keep me? So; I'm to be held captive, then? Some 'little birdie' in a nice flashy cage?" she threw the phrase back into Caelan's face.  
  
"Oh, don't be bitter. Would you rather stay here? I could tell the Healers for you, though I don't think they'd be too pleased with that. . . Someone who's perfectly capable of living elsewhere taking up the space they need for those who are-"  
  
"That's enough, thank you," Kate interrupted. "You know, you certainly have an ability to talk. I think that should be your Heraldic Gift, Caelan. We'll call it 'the Gift of Gab.' " Kate grinned evilly and folded her legs beneath her in the chair.  
  
"Very funny."  
  
"I thought so. Did you come here to talk my ears off or did you have some other purpose? Or maybe they sent you over instead of Annali because you're expendable? That must be it. Healers are hard to come by, but they've got plenty of Herald trainees to shove around. . ."  
  
"Kate! How dare you say something like that!" Caelan was indignant. "We are NOT expendable! None of us!"  
  
"Then why don't they send someone important over to get me?"  
  
What Caelan *wanted* to say was, 'because you don't deserve it,' but instead - being one to value feelings of others over her own - she shrugged. "It isn't my place to decide who does what around here, you know. I just follow orders. I don't give them."  
  
"Funny," Kate scoffed, arms folded, "I'm used to quite the opposite."  
  
Caelan shook her head and sighed. Sometimes there was no dealing with Kate. Whatever anyone said, she had some sharp comment to retort with. 'I think she'd bite me if I gave her a compliment!'  
  
"I only came here to tell you you're allowed to leave the room, that's all. . ."  
  
"Thank you, Monarch's Own Messenger-Service," Kate's retort made the 'thanks' a bitter one, "Now - take your leave, if you please."  
  
Another sigh on Caelan's behalf. "Fine, fine. Maybe I'll see you around the Collegium some time." And with that, she took herself out of the room, off to - presumably - do more Heraldic things.  
  
'Like bathing the homeless, feeding lost puppies and befriending tiny woodland creatures.'  
  
"What's with the venom?" a voice boomed from the doorway, and Kate turned her face away from the window to see Dante standing in it. "You just about took poor Caelan's arm off! Gods, Kate. . . are you so upset at staying here that you must make life hell for everyone else?"  
  
"No," Kate quipped, "Just Caelan." She forced a smile and turned away again.  
  
"Listen - it isn't going to kill you to be a little bit nicer to people around here, Kate. You should hear the talk in the halls about 'that foreigner in room 3.' Ever since you threw that tray of food at Jakur four days ago, the whole Wing has been buzzing."  
  
Jakur was a little blue-eyed boy who served the Palace as a page. He ran errands for the most part, and everyone in the palace was very fond of him. Everyone except Kate, of course. For all that he seemed as angellic and perfect as a little boy could be, he had a terrible stutter when he was nervous. Apparently Kate scared the wits from the boy, because he could barely speak when he was in the room with her. It had annoyed Kate so terribly that, in her temper, she'd overturned an entire meal upon the boy as he stuttered over the phrase, 'here's your supper, ma'am.'  
  
They hadn't sent him back into the room since then, and every time the child passed Kate's open door, she made sure to send him a glare that could melt the ice off of a frozen pond.  
  
"You can't tell me you wouldn't have been annoyed at that, too, Dante," she pointed out rather smugly.  
  
"I would have been annoyed, yes, but I would NOT have dumped an entire meal of hot soup and buttered bread upon his shoulders!"  
  
Kate smirked, remembering just how humorous she'd found the entire thing. Blue eyes and egg-noodles happened to compliment each other very well. "And his little blue uniform. . ." she said aloud, without thinking.  
  
"What?"   
  
"Nothing."  
  
He quirked an eyebrow at her and sighed. "Look -- just lighten up, okay? If not for the rest of the Palace, then for me." He offered her a smile, then held out his hand. "Come, Princess. I must now escort you to your room."  
  
And, since anywhere was better than this tiny room in Healers', Kate took Dante's hand and stood up. "All right," she said, "Lead on."  
  
So Dante lead Kate out of the little tiled room, and into the long hallway just beyond the door. Kate had never been outside of that room - this was something new to her. She looked around and blinked, surprised at herself that she never took the time to poke her head out of the door and examine the hallway. Well - she'd been . . . occupied, and now was a good a time as any. Her ever-changing eyes watched the walls as they passed, making a mental note of every doorway, every window, every decoration. Dante noticed this - it was common procedure for a royal in unexplored territory. No doubt that this action was ingrained into her head by years of schooling. Find escape routes, find defence methods, find offense methods. . . Dante didn't doubt that Kate could attack anyone in the halls as well as he could, and HE carried a sword. Kate didn't, but he had the feeling that she could use the tapestry on the walls as well as a sword or even better.   
  
"Why do you keep doing that?" he asked, pausing and tugging Kate aside so as to keep from blocking traffic. One never knew when a group of Healers might come rushing in with an emergency or some other urgent necessity. He didn't wish to be scolded by a woman ten years his junior about blocking the halls with his idleness. It'd happened before, and was something he'd rather not repeat. A Healer, when provoked, reminded Dante of a Wyrsa mother chasing enemies away from her pups.  
  
"Doing what?"  
  
"You know what I'm talking about. We're not going to assassinate you, Kate. We're HERALDS and HEALERS here. Well, there're Bards too, but it isn't as though THEY can do anything!" He strummed an 'Air-lute' for a moment, then cried, "DIE, KARSITE SCUM!" And gave a great swing with his arms.   
  
Kate, despite herself, laughed. "Nut. You ought to join the Gypsy circus, Dante. They'd LOVE a comedian like you! Besides . . . I think you'd look positively ravishing in a dress!"  
  
Dante took a bow and grinned. "I DO put on a great show, don't I? Now -" his face was a trifle more serious, "Be truthful. Do you honestly think you're going to need all of the information you seek?"  
  
"Old habits die hard."  
  
"Well," Dante looked at her, continued walking again, "We'll just have to break you of those habits, won't we, Kate?"  
  
Kate smirked at him. "I'd like to see you try." 


	21. 21

For a person used to living in the lap of luxury, the little room she'd been given to reside in was a FAR cry from what Kate would call tolerable. There was a bed, a positively ancient desk and matching bookself, a dresser (Kate didn't know what she was supposed to put in it, since she hadn't come here with anything but the clothes on her back) and a night stand next to the bed.  
  
Through a little, bubbly-glass window, she could see a wide, field dotted with white specks that moved about aimlessly. Companions' Field, she'd be informed, as she inquired of Dante the moment she'd looked out of the window.  
  
'Every Companion ever born lives or has lived in that Field,' he'd told her, and she wondered why they gave her a room that had such a clear view of the place.   
  
She sighed and sat back upon the bed; one of those infernal bells had rang loudly at about an hour after dawn. Kate had been awake, of course, but the sound of that bell was enough to set her pulse racing. For a young woman so schooled in controlling her emotions, to have allowed that little slip was something *quite* unsatisfactory.  
  
'Be ready by the second bell,' Dante had said to her before he'd left last night, leaving Kate wishing he'd stayed behind a while longer. He never said where she was being taken, nor why, but Kate followed the request anyway. She was curious, and that was enough to make her ready herself and wait for him. Sure, curiosity killed the cat, but Kate wasn't a cat, now, was she?  
  
:Very funny.: said a voice inside her head, and then the door to Kate's room swung open a bit. "Ready to go?"   
  
It was Dante, of course, and Kate nodded at him. "I'm ready, though I wish you wouldn't intrude upon my thoughts like that. . . ."  
  
"Sorry."  
  
"Where are you taking me?"  
  
"To meet the Queen, of course. She's the reason you're here, after all. You didn't think we'd just drag you out of your home without a purpose, did you?"  
  
"I'm not stupid."  
  
Dante laughed, shoved open the door, offered Kate his hand. "Come now, Princess, toward the Old Palace and the Queen, Herself."  
  
Well, Kate didn't know just how exactly she was supposed to remember the way to the Queen's chambers. There were so many switchbacks and loops and long, identical hallways that Kate soon gave up trying to keep her wits about her. A first for the girl, and it made her terribly uneasy. Dante read her nervousness wrong, and soothed, "The Queen isn't a bad woman, Kate. No worries! She's kind and dear-hearted, and she has a good head on her shoulders."  
  
Kate let him think that her anxieties had been about their meeting, and nodded. "I'll be okay."  
  
And she was, when they opened the door to the Queen's Chamber, after being quizzed by two burly guards who - Kate noticed immediately - had the aire of two who were quite confident in themselves. 'There must be other guards within hearing. . . .'  
  
"Highness?" said Dante, bowing briefly and leaving Kate unsure if she should do the same, "I have with me the Princess Fitral, from -"  
  
"Ah!" A bright-eyed, fiery-haired woman smiled, cutting Dante off mid-sentence and standing, "I was hoping I'd see you today!" She made her way over to Kate and shook her hand vigorously, much to Kate's dismay. She wiped her hand on her pants -- the cheeriness might be catchy.  
  
"Err -- good day to you, Your Majesty. . . ." was all she managed to say while still making sure her hand wasn't contaminated. She saw the Queen flash Dante a side-long look.  
  
"Welcome to Haven, Kayatice. I had hoped you'd make it here without harm, but things don't always go according to plan, do they?"  
  
"Uh - No. I suppose not."  
  
"No, they don't. Well, you're better, now? Or so the Healers tell me. . . ."  
  
"Just a few broken ribs, that's all."  
  
Dante snorted. "A broken jaw, a sprained ankle, bruised AND broken ribs, a punctured lung, terrible burns on her hands and arms, and a slight concussion, Highness."  
  
The Queen's jaw dropped slightly. "Dante! Could you not have spared some time to be careful with your cargo?"  
  
"It wasn't him," Kate hastily explained, lest Dante earn some retribution for the injuries, "It was my Father, and his guards."  
  
With folded arms, the Queen nodded. "I see. And You're sure you're okay, now?"  
  
"Aye."  
  
"Very good. Now, tell me a little bit about yourself, Kaya-"  
  
"Kate."  
  
"-Kate, starting with your age, please?"  
  
"I've just turned seventeen, Majesty."  
  
"Is that all?" Clearly shocked, the Queen sat down again.   
  
"Yes. . . ."  
  
"Well, I should say you are a marvelous person, then, to have escaped a fate so horrid and still make it to Haven in one piece! Not to mention, you seem to have *quite* a grasp on your FireStarting Gift, from what Dante has told me."  
  
"Yeah, well -- my Father knew I had it since I was five or something. I guess I didn't like one of the toys I was given for my birthing-day gift. They found it in a pile of ash on my floor, or so I'm told."  
  
"So, he trained you from that day on, correct?"  
  
"He didn't, no. Father hired someone for that."  
  
"I see. What else were you trained in?"  
  
"Weapons. I can use a broad-sword, a short-sword, a dagger, throwing knives," as Kate continued, the Queen's eyes widened, "A bow and arrow, a mace, walking stick, club, or even an old pair of boots. I know defense, I know offense, I know how to detect spies, how to lose a follower, how to BE a spy and how to follow. . ." Dante was staring at her as she counted these off on her fingers, and the Queen had fallen silent. "What?"  
  
"Well," said Dante, who recovered first, since he'd spent the most time around Kate and her ways, "It's just that -- most of the Trainees here never learn that much in their lifetime, and I'm sure that even our current Weaponsmaster doesn't know some of the things you do, Lo-" He'd been about to say 'love,' but caught himself and continued, "Like uses for a mace. . . ."  
  
Now the Queen spoke up. "Is there anything else we should know about? Other schooling you've been given aside from Weapons?"  
  
"Yeah. I know arithmetic, map reading, astrology, herbology, beginning tracking, city management, Ettiquette, some general cooking -- What now!?"  
  
"Again," said the Queen, "Most trainees here don't know any of those things until their fourth or fifth year in the Collegium."  
  
"But I'm not a Trainee! It doesn't apply."  
  
"It's only a reference tool," Dante said, almost unhappily.  
  
"I can also speak Hardornen, a tiny bit of Karsite, and now Valdemaran, aside from my own language."  
  
"Well," said the Queen again, drumming her fingers on her desk, "There went MY plans."  
  
"What plans?" Dante and Kate asked in unison.  
  
"I was going to enroll Kate as an Unaffiliate and get her accustomed to life here. I think she'd be too far advanced in most everything for us to let her sit in, however."  
  
"Well, what about Valdemar History? She hasn't any knowledge about us . . . do you?"  
  
"Only a little."  
  
"There, you see? History. That's a good one. And -- what else?" Dante was a bit smug.  
  
"How are you at equitation, Kate?" The Queen ignored Dante's tone of voice and smiled slightly at Kate.  
  
"Not so good. I wasn't allowed to ride after I tried breaking from the Palace on one of my Father's racers."  
  
"There we go, another class. And I suppose we'll put you in Advanced Gift training, just to make sure you have your technique straightened out."  
  
Kate surpressed a sigh and looked the Queen in the face. "Why?"  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Yeah - why do I have to take these classes in the first place?"  
  
"Well - would you rather sit around on your behind all day and collect dust? I suppose I could turn you into a handmaided, or something sim-"  
  
"No."  
  
"Then . . . ?"  
  
"I'll take the damned classes."  
  
"I thought you'd see things my way, Kate!" came the cheery response, and Kate nearly snarled. She turned away from the woman and stared around the room as the Queen chatted about something inconsequential - at least, as the moment it was nothing to Kate - that had to do with . . . well, Kate hadn't been listening, and so couldn't really say what the two of them were talking about. She was staring at an almost life-like painting on the wall of a woman with nearly-white hair and a man who seemed positively outlandish. The woman had a Companion leaning it's head on her shoulder, and the man had a *very* large hawk sitting upon his.   
  
And as she stared at the portrait a little longer, Kate could have *sworn* that she heard it call her name!  
  
"Kate!" it said again, and then she realized it'd been Dante all along. She turned and gave him a questioning look.  
  
"Is that okay with you?" he asked, and the young woman wished she would have been paying attention earlier. She looked at him, completely confused.  
  
Dante sighed. "Supper tonight, Kate, in the Hall with the rest of the Court. Are you up to it?"  
  
"Oh . . ." she said airily, as though this were some meaningless decision that she had to make, "I suppose I could manage it, if I had something to wear."  
  
A slight smacking noise drifted from Kate's left, and she turned to look. The Queen had her hand on her forehead. "I'd completely forgotten about that. Dante? Can you take her into town for clothes? I can have the Dean give you the necessary funds for the trip."  
  
"Certainly, Highness."  
  
"Good. Very good. Dante, Kate, thank you for coming."  
  
After what was clearly a dismissal, Dante bowed himself out. Kate didn't bother looking back over her shoulder as she exited, and the Queen looked after the departing duo with an amused expression on her slender face. 


	22. 22

Haven, with its wide streets, countless people, smells, noise, sights and animals, was quite a change from the sort of city Kate was used to seeing.  
  
"Back home, the streets were never this crowded. My father had an affinity for order. . . he considered chaos like this unsightly. Too many people on the streets, he'd send out the Guard to beat them back into their homes."  
  
"Nobody likes a mob, I suppose. Ah -- here we are!" Dante tugged Kate through a particularly tight-knit group of children clustered just before a little shop, taking advatage of the shade provided by the awning that hung into the street. "Shopkeeper!" the Herald called into the store, looking around at bolts of fabric, sacks of feather, shelves of shoes, "Service, please?"  
  
" 'Old your 'orses, I'm comin'!" came the gruff reply of the man behind the counter, and Kate eyed him warily. "Ye don't got ta gitcher pants in a twist, I'm walkin' fast as m-- 'Erald!" He looked shocked to see a man in full whites standing within his humble shop. "Terr'bly sorry ta make ye wait, 'Erald! What kin I do for ye this fine mornin'?"   
  
Dante winked at Kate.   
  
"We'd like a dress tailored up for this *lovely* young woman at my left. She's to attend tonight's banquet with the Queen."  
  
The peddler's eyebrows lifted, and a greedy little grin spread its way across a wrinkled face. "Is that so? Methinks I've got just the gown, 'Erald! Wait 'ntil you see it!" He shuffled off into the recesses of his store and the faint sounds of rummaging whispered at them.  
  
"He's odd," Kate remarked, not bothering to lower her voice, "Makes me wonder why such a crack-pot is allowed to work for the general public."  
  
"Shh. . . ."  
  
" 'Ere we 'ave somethin' right purdy for a Lady like yerself!" The man came from his little storeroom and held out a lovely dress that was both blue and gold, a sweeping silken thing that would trail the floor behind the wearer. He held it up proudly and said, "Whatcha think, then?"  
  
"Err," said Kate, eyeing the gown dubiously, "It's okay. . . but do you have anything. . . darker?"  
  
"Darker, milord?" he asked Dante, who only smirked and nodded. "A'right. Gi' me a moment." He hurried back into his store and was gone for some time.  
  
"You've a thing for the sinister, Kate?" Dante had his arms folded and was leaning against the counter with a bemused expression upon his angellic face.   
  
"So? Can you *blame* me, after spending an eternity with that Healer?"  
  
"Annali isn't THAT bad, Kate."  
  
"Have you ever spent more than a few hours around her?"  
  
"No."  
  
"I rest my case."  
  
Just then, a dress walked out of the store-room and paused before them. "What 'bout this?" asked a muffled voice, and Dante laughed. "You make it look like a flock of boggles have inhabited that dress, Alastor." He chuckled and was about to say more when, from his left, came the exclaimation, "Marvelous!" He turned and looked at Kate, who was reaching across the counter to feel the velvet-like fabric on the bust of the dress. Mostly black, this dress was also long and sweeping, and each sleeve was knee-length. The neck was low and wide, and the waist was encompassed with silver embroidery. "Too many skirts, though," Kate said, looking at the large expanse of skirts that seemed to be a grand total of four feet across, "But -- you could fix that, couldn't you, Alastor?"  
  
The shopkeep looked slightly annoyed that Kate had used his first name, but nodded anyway. "Aye, we could fix it right up if ye wanted me to, Lady."  
  
"Good. . . we could remove some of the skirts, leave this one right here."  
  
Alastor nodded.   
  
"And can you make the neck more angled, instead of rounded?"  
  
"Aye, but it might take a while, Lady. I got meself a right lot of orders ta fill t'night."  
  
"I think you can set them aside on the Queen's orders, Alastor." Dante rattled a little pouch of change he'd been keeping in his pocket. "We'd be more than happy to pay you, for your troubles."  
  
Alastor's eyes seemed to sparkle at the prospect of the amount of money he'd get from the Herald if he did a good job, and he nodded eagerly. "I kin have it for ye by t'night, if ye want," he said, "But I'll jus' need the Lady's measurements a'fore ye go."  
  
So, Kate let the man pull his measuring tape from a little basket behind the counter, measure her waist, bust and a few other necessaries - she noted that Dante was watching this quite closely, and it seemed to her he was keeping an eye out for anything more than measurements on Alastor's behalf - and soon the two of them were on their way, Alastor's pocket only half-filled, with the promise of more upon completion of his endeavour.  
  
They walked out of the shop and down the road a little way, Kate's eyes constantly roaming through shop windows as they passed, while Dante chatted idly about anything and everything to fill the silence between them. There was anything BUT silence on the busy street, but betwixt the both of them, few words were spoken unless prompted.  
  
"Hey," Dante said suddenly, "you're going to need something to wear WITH that gown, aren't you?" He tugged her into a little shop - much nicer on the inside than it was on the outside - and over to a small window display containing necklaces and earrings. "Here." He'd taken a necklace from the display and held it up for Kate's examination. It wasn't anything too flashy, the chain was slender, silver, and delicate. He walked around behind Kate and leaned in close to her ear. "Lift up your hair for me?" he breathed, and Kate complied quite willingly. His hands brought the necklace around, then clasped it behind her neck and arranged it gently until it lay as it should. Then he turned her around with a gentle grip on her shoulders, looked at her necklace and smiled. Kate lifted her hand and fingered the diamond hanging from the chain; it was rather large, and it glittered charmingly when the sunlight hit it just so.  
  
The store owner, a kind old woman with rosy cheeks and a plump figure - who had also been watching them since they entered the store - handed Kate a small hand-mirror and smiled. "Looks lovely on you, milady."  
  
Kate held the mirror up to herself and gazed into it with something close to awe. She'd never been granted any jewelry as a child. Her parents had deemed it a token of status and therefore banned it from anyone in the family not of legal age or higher status than Kate. Meaning, Kate remembered bitterly, that no one save Eavan or Pyrte could wear any jewelry whatsoever. Dante walked around behind her again and rest his chin on her shoulder so that he, too, could see into the mirror. "What do you think?" he whispered, and saw Kate's reflection smile.  
  
It made his stomach flip, the way Kate's smile made her eyes light up with pleasure and formed a dimple in one cheek.   
  
"I think I don't deserve it," Kate said, with the first hint of modesty that Dante had ever heard from her. She angled the mirror so that she could see the necklace in a new light, and smiled again.   
  
"Oh, but you do," Dante said, and swept a tendril of her hair aside so that he could kiss her neck softly. How a creature so brave, so beautiful, and so determined could NOT deserve anything but the best . . . he could not fathom it. "Kate, you deserve anything your heart desires. After living the kind of life you had to for so long, and putting UP with all of it -- if it were in my power to do so, I think you'd deserve your own Heaven." He smiled at the mirror, let her see him in the reflection, lifted one eyebrow at her. "So; do you want it?"  
  
With her gaze still fixed upon the mirror, Kate nodded. "Yes. . ."  
  
"Wonderful!" The old woman, watching them all the while, clasped her hands together and nodded vigorously, then bustled off behind the counter. Kate watched her go, from the corner of her eye, and then returned to her task of admiring the necklace she now wore. "Dante, you really shouldn't buy this for me. . . you were only given so much money for my things. That dress cost a fortune, I'm sure of it!"  
  
"And since when did you care about how much anything cost, Kate?" he smiled, wrapped both arms around her waist and swayed back and forth a bit. Kate didn't answer right away, though. She liked the way Dante's arms felt when they were wrapped around her like they were, and she also had to admit that the necklace DID look quite wonderful as it lay at her nape.  
  
"I just --" but she hadn't any more time to protest. At that moment, the little shopkeeper appeared again and held a flat, finely-carved mohogany box out to Kate. Silk cloths hung from the sides of the box, blue and silver. Dante unclasped the necklace, then lay it atop the silk with a very commanding aire about himself. "Ye've made a good choice, Sir," the woman said to Dante, folded the sillk over the necklace and snapped the box closed. "This one's called 'Lady Whisper.' It's our most popular piece. I think you'll find you love it, Sir!"   
  
"Oh," Dante said as he took the box and tucked it under one arm, "I know I will." He fished a few gold coins out of his bag - considerably more than twice what Dante would pay for the dress - and handed them to the woman, closing her fist around them with a gentle pat to seal the deal. "And special thanks from the Queen, too," he said, much to the old woman's pleasure. "And now, Kate," Dante clasped her hand, brought it to his lips and kissed it, "Our business is finished. Is there anywhere you'd like to go?"  
  
Kate thought on it as they exited, blinking, into the sunlight and looked around. "Well," she said after a moment, "I think I'd like to get something to eat."  
  
"We can go back to the Palace for-"  
  
"No," Kate interrupted, "Let's go there!" She pointed to a tavern at the end of the street with a large sign hanging above the door. 'The Compass Rose' was carved into the wood - along with an intricate design that Kate guessed was supposed to be a compass and a rose combined - and even as they watched, the door swung open and pair of youngsters walked out, chatting happily.  
  
"Uh," Dante temporized, "You're sure? I mean - it's hardly a fitting place for a Princess!"  
  
"Oh, hang it, Dante." She snatched his hand and carted him off toward the tavern, shoved open the door and burst inside as though she were a regular. Around them, dozens of children in blue, grey, rust and pale green were talking and singing, drinking small ale and eating something that looked like rolls of bread with meat inside. There wasn't an empty table in the place, but Kate didn't care. She dragged Dante over to a group of unusually quiet children - most of them not much younger than she was - and cleared her throat. A few of them looked up, spotted Dante's Whites, and shoved over to make room for the Herald and his guest.   
  
"Of course you had to pick the noisiest, most crowded tavern in the city!" Dante called, shouting over the din of countless children as they ate their lunches. "I didn't think you liked the crowds! I'd mindspeak with you, but I can hardly hear myself think!"  
  
Kate laughed a bit, shaking her head as she did so, and patted Dante's arm. "If you're too weak to stand the noise," she shouted back, "I'm sure we could go somewhere else!" Dante punched her in the arm and snickered.  
  
"What?" Kate asked innocently, "I was only suggesting!"  
  
A waitress came by and set two plates in front of them, along with two mugs of small ale. Kate eyed the food dubiously and picked up a piece of it, intending to pick it apart and examine the contents. "What is this stuff?"  
  
"Ooh," Dante took a bite of his food right away and didn't reply before thoroughly chewing and then swallowing, "They're saugage, cheese and bread rolls! This place is the only one that makes them, and even then it's only once a week!" He took another bite and said through his mouthful, "That's why this place is so crowded! I should have known."  
  
Kate looked down at her plate as it lay atop the paper-covered table and shrugged. If Dante was eating it, she could, too! And the food turned out to be very good, in fact. She found herself completely full two sausage/cheese/bread rolls later, yet still wanting more of the things since they tasted so wonderful. Perhaps it was the fact that they were anything but fruit and cheese - even a Princess got tired of the best when it was the same thing day in, day out - or maybe it was because the seasonings in the food were quite different from what Kate was used to, either way, Kate loved it all, and finished off her ale with a flourish. She lay her arms on the table and looked down it at the group of quietly-conversing children on the other end. "What d'you think they're talking about, Dante?" she asked, one eyebrow lifted a little as she looked.  
  
"Oh, school, no doubt," he said, and shoved his plate to the center of the table to signify that he was done eating. Kate followed suit.  
  
"Speaking of which," she said, "When am I supposed to start taking those infernal classes you and the Queen have decided for me?"  
  
"Most likely tomorrow," but Dante's mind wasn't on what he was saying. He was staring off into the distance as Kate watched him do so many times when he spoke with his Companion.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Hm?"  
  
"You've got that look. What's he saying?"  
  
"That look? Oh. Well it's nothing really important. Just - ah - the Dean wanted to know if I was up to teaching a newly Chosen how to shield, ground and center. Apparently I'm very good at it." Dante stood, offered his hand to Kate, "Shall we go, now?" He helped Kate to her feet with an easy tug, lifted the jewelry box he'd set upon the table, handed his waitress a silver piece, and began shoving his way through the crowd as though it were merely a bunch of tall grass. Kate had the distinct feeling that Dante was lying, or at least not telling all of the truth. He had a habit of changing the subject when he didn't want Kate to know something. "Why would the Dean ask you to do it?" she asked, once the door to the tavern was closed, "Why not a Herald who's been a Herald for more than two years?"  
  
"Because," Dante replied vaguely, "I guess I'm just better at it, that's all." Then he began walking back toward Alastor's shop in hopes of retrieving the gown, and this time at a much more brisk pace. Wondering briefly why the man was in such a hurry, Kate followed easily and kept her mouth closed.  
  
"I've on'y jus' got th' neck done, 'Erald," Alastor was saying when Kate pulled herself out of her thoughts and back into the present world, "I'll need a few more hours ta finish th' rest of it."  
  
"Fine," Dante said, "We'll send a servant for it an hour before dusk. If you don't have it then, you'll not get the other half of your pay, and you'll still be expected to complete the gown anyway." He gave the man a curt nod, turned on his heel and hurried from the shop, with Kate hot on his heels.   
  
"Why the rush?" she called from a few feet behind him, "You weren't moving half so fast when we went out this morning!"  
  
"I have business to attend to, Kate. I'm sorry, but they need me back at the Palace."  
  
"But. . . ?"  
  
"I'm sorry," he said again, slowed a bit, and took Kate's arm. "Come, we'll go back to the Palace and you'll have some free time before the banquet, okay?" He didn't wait for her reply, though, and instead hurried both himself and Kate off in the direction of the Palace once more. Kate was rather sorry they had to walk all that way - it wasn't far, but with the crowd, one couldn't fit a horse through the gaps the people left. Walking was easier, but it was also tiresome and slower. By the time they slipped back through the gate leading into the Collegium, Kate was sure she'd never done so much walking in her life. 'I must be getting out of shape,' she thought, 'if a little stroll through the city wears me out like this!' Dante interrupted her thoughts when he paused, kissed her hands, and said, "This is where I leave you, Kate. I've got some business to attend to; I should be back before dinner to escort you to the Hall." Kate nodded and watched him leave, suddenly resentful of his duties. He'd told her once before that a Herald's duty came first, above all else. She didn't think she could ever understand how someone could place duty before everything else in his or her life. 'Like love. . .'   
  
Feeling rather shunned and somewhat forgotten, Kate walked in the opposite direction Dante had gone, off toward a bridge she'd seen from her bedroom window. It crossed a wide river, and - as Kate drew nearer - seemed quite the place for a bit of quiet thought. She sat down upon the edge of the thing, sorely wishing she had some company, and at the same time relishing the fact that she was alone at last. The only company she TRULY wanted was Dante's, and she couldn't have that little luxury just now. Oh, what a life this was turning out to be!  
  
'So here I sit, away from home, surrounded by the Clan of the Sunshine Smiles, without a friend in the world. Hurrah.' She sighed. 'Oh, well. Dante'll be back soon enough!' She WAS schooled in the art of patience, wasn't she? She'd just have to fall back on that training and let time pass on its own. Nothing she could do would make it go any faster, of course. Kate closed her eyes and leaned back onto the bridge, leaving her feet to dangle over the side, hands folded behind her head. The sound of the water rushing below her - cool and swift - was very relaxing, and soon she found herself dosing in the warm early-day sunlight. It wasn't long before she was fully asleep, and an even shorter time passed and Kate fell into the throes of a dream.  
  
~~ Surrounded by the flat, rocky soil of her homeland, Kate spun in a slow circle and took in all that she could. For as far as the eye could see, there was nothing. Nothing, save the flat, rocky land of home. The sun washed its grey light over the landscape, the ever-cloudy skies were their usual, wonderful, melancholy slate, and somewhere far off, a raven cawed. Ah, this was the type of thing Kate loved to see. The world seemed saddened, dreary. It was perfect. "So, you've decided to come back, have you!?" a distinctly reptillian voice crackled behind her, and Kate whirled to find herself face-to-face with a huge, black cobra. "Did you find you couldn't live without the comfort of your high and mighty life, Kayatice?" The contempt dripping from that voice meant that the snake could only be one person. "No." Kate snapped at Pyrte, instantly narrowing her gaze and preparing herself to fight this man. Her vision had begun to haze over with a faint reddish tint. "What the hell do you want?"  
  
"Just you," the snake said, and moved threateningly closer. He hissed a sickening hiss and seemed to grin. "You are, after all, a traitor. You deserve death."  
  
"I don't," Kate snapped at him, "*You* do." She felt her anger flare up, and suddenly, her body became a huge, slinking dragon. Smoke curled from her nostrils and her claws dug into the rocky soil beneath her feet. "Come any closer," she growled, "And I'll kill you."  
  
"Ha!" laughed the cobra, and his black body shimmered in the dreary sunlight, "You tried it once, remember? You'll lose this time just like you lost the last!" As he dove for her, the whole world errupted in crimson flame, and the hellish scream of a burning cobra filled her ears like the cries of a hundred terrified horses. . .~~  
  
On the bridge, Kate jolted herself awake, drenched in sweat, trembling, and pale. She opened her eyes with a sharp intake of breath, and fell into the deepest blue gaze she had ever seen in her life.  
  
:I am Kalia,: a voice whispered into her mind. It was comforting, soothing - she felt her fears draining away, the remnants of that dream vanished - and Kate had the feeling that she'd never be alone again, so long as she lived, :And I have Chosen you, Kate.: 


	23. 23

Kate looked into the eyes of the Companion mare before her with an awe large enough to match someone who'd just witnessed a miracle. She was falling, and at the same time, she was rising, surrounded by warmth and comfort and joy. . . Her trembling ceased, her pulse slowed, and the flame that'd been threatening to break free of her loose grasp was snuffed like a candle in the rain.   
  
"Kalia," she said aloud, both of her hands reached for the silken pelt before her and wrapped around the mare's neck. The mare nuzzled her head against Kate's chest - an embrace, of sorts - and therein, Kate found comfort unlike any she had ever received in her short seventeen years of life. Her slender fingers coiled themselves into the silken mane that drifted from an arched neck, her cheek pressed against the warmth of a perfect face.  
  
:I will never leave you, Chosen,: Kalia said to Kate, blowing warm air into the girl's face, :I have waited so long to meet you, and now you are here, with me. We belong, you and I, and together we will do great things.:  
  
"You - you were waiting for me?"  
  
:Yes. . . I Searched for you, but could not find you, for you were so very far away from me. . . I have not slept in many days. You arrived here unconscious, and since then I have been waiting for the day when you would come to me. I knew you would. . . .: Kalia lipped Kate's hair, sighed happily. :And now, here you are!:  
  
Before Kate knew what she was doing, she found herself standing, grasping a handful of mane, and hoisting herself onto Kalia's back with the ease of someone who has ridden bareback a great many times. She lay down upon the Companion's - HER Companion's - back, and closed her eyes, still stroking the silvery-white coat with one hand. Kalia took it upon herself to leave the bridge - which still smelled slightly of cinders and smoke - and picked her way across Companion's Field until she came to the shade of a grand, old tree somewhere near the river. Kate remained in a haze of elation and interest all the while, her own eyes a startling shade of blue, and so wide that it seemed - at a glance - that she was frightened. Not anything of the sort, however, Kate was marveling at how glorious it felt to be loved unconditionally by this horse-shaped guardian angel. Had Kate been an outsider to this event, she would have felt utterly sickened and probably would have tromped off in an opposite direction to mull over how disgusted she was. This, though, had happened to her, and now everything was different. This was new, this was exciting, and this was quite possibly the most wonderful thing that'd happened to her. It even bested the escape from death at the hands of her own father.  
  
:Why Kate, I'm flattered!:  
  
Kate blinked rapidly and sat up, apparently startled that Kalia was still there. She opened her mouth to protest, but stopped herself on account of the fact that she didn't quite know what to say to a horse. :I'm always going to be here,: Kalia said, amused, :In the back of your mind like a shadow. And should you ever need me, all you have to do is think of me.:  
  
It was unnerving to think that someone had the ability to be an ever-present witness to her thoughts, but Kate had the distinct feeling that she could trust Kalia with her whole heart.  
  
:You're right, of course.: Kate got the mental image of a blonde-haired, slender woman who was smiling, but it vanished in a wink and was replaced by approval, :I would never tell your secrets, Chosen. Not ever.:  
  
And, since one could not lie mind-to-mind, Kate was inclined to believe her Companion. She slid off of Kalia's back and looked around - careful never to remove her hand from the mare's body as she walked. They were in a little aclove near the river, complete with a little ornamental bench and tiny, budding rosebushes. But, rather than sitting on the bench, Kate sat down on the ground next to Kalia and fell silent. It wasn't an akward silence, however. Kate and Kalia needed nothing more than the knowledge that they were together to be happy. It was dusk before Kate realized that she'd been sitting all afternoon. Both of her legs were asleep, her bottom was cold, and her stomach had been rumbling hungrily for quite some time.  
  
:Perhaps you ought to go inside now, Chosen.:  
  
"But-" Kate paused, closed her mouth. :But I don't want to leave you here.:  
  
:I'll be fine, you know. . . I'd rather you left me and fed yourself than be here with me and miserable because you're practically starving, Chosen. Besides, I'm not going anywhere! All you'll need to do is think of me and I'll come around.:  
  
:Really?:  
  
:Truly.:  
  
Kate stood up - with some difficulty - and brushed off her pants. :Then I'll come back out here to see you after Court, okay?:  
  
:Oh, Court lasts a while, lovey, and I think you'll be ready for bed when it's over. We can still chat, though, while you bathe and get into your formal things.: The mare stood and shook her mane, then nudged Kate off toward the Palace. :They'll be wondering where you are, you know . . . you should get going!:  
  
With a nod and a pat for Kalia, Kate reluctantly turned and began walking slowly away. She could hear the Companion moving behind her, but was a bit surprised when a warm nose pressed itself between her shoulder blades. :I decided I'm going to walk with you to the gate.: Pleased, Kate fell back beside her Companion and lay her head on the mare's shoulder as they walked.  
  
"Kate!" a voice ahead of them called, and Kate could just make out a white-clad figure in the distance, "I've been looking all over for you!" It was Dante, and he'd quickened his pace to meet Kate half-way out of the Field. When he trotted within talking distance, however, his eyes grew wide. "Kalia?" he looked inquisitively at the mare, who winked. Dante stopped in his tracks, and for a moment Kate feared he'd turn and run back the way he came. But, to her relief, a wide grin spanned the man's features and he grabbed Kate up in a tight hug. "Oh, Kate! This is wonderful!" he exclaimed, swinging the girl in a circle until she punched his shoulder and demanded to be set down.  
  
"Yes, it's peachy. And I have Court to attend, Dante. Has my gown arrived?"  
  
The smile on Dante's face faded a bit. Apparently he'd been expecting a newer, cheerier Kate now that she'd been Chosen, but this was not the case. "Erm, yeah - yes. Yes, we have the gown, and it's hanging in your room . . ."  
  
"Good. And how much time do I have until Court begins?"  
  
"Uhm. . ." Completely flustered, Dante fished around in his head for the remaining amount of time Kate had until dinner. "A little more than a mark?" It was the closest estimation he could come up with. Kate nodded again and turned introspective, then meandered off in the direction of the Palace, seemingly deep in thought. Dante flashed a look to Kalia, who snorted softly and shook her head, and then he sauntered off after her just as the sun touched the horizon.  
  
"I know what it means to be Chosen, Dante," Kate replied to the previous question as she half-stormed down the halls toward her room, "And frankly, I don't think I'd like to take part in it."  
  
"But - you can't just ignore this! It's not something you can turn down, Kate!" He was completely, totally and irreversibly shocked. "No one has ever refused to become a Herald before! If you refuse, you can't just keep living here and go on as though nothing happened! Your bond with Kalia will be severed forcibly, and you'll lose her, Kate."  
  
With her hand just inches from her doorknob, Kate paused. Lose Kalia. . . she'd lose the one and only creature that knew all of her faults, all of her misgivings and bad habits and quirks, and still loved her.   
  
"Kate, listen to me. The instant you decide not to become a Herald, you'll regret it, and you'll have to live with that decision for the rest of your life. Kalia Chose you because you have what it takes to be a Herald. You have strength and intelligence and an iron will. . . hell, you've got a great deal more than most of the people in here, including me! Please, please, PLEASE think about this!"  
  
"I have," Kate said, closing the door behind them both and moving about the darkened room to grab and light a few candles.   
  
"And?" Kate could tell, by the tone in Dante's voice, that she had him ensared. "What did you decide?"  
  
"And. . . I decided I'm going to give you my answer." She said, and watched Dante's face for a sign of suspense. "AFTER Court tonight." She resisted the urge to grin wickedly at him, and hid her face in the shadows lest her eyes - which would have been a playful violet at that moment - beguile her good humor.  
  
:You're so very sinister, Kate.: Kalia chuckled, then faded away again until she was only a whisper in the back of Kate's mind.  
  
Kate reached to pull off her shirt, standing near the water basin with the intent of sponging off before dressing, apparently not modest in the least, but Dante turned his back to her and gazed fixedly at the wall, his hands clasped behind his back. "You're a cruel woman for making me wait like this," he said, rocking on the balls of his feet as he waited.   
  
"I know." Kate pulled the gown on over her freshly-cleansed body and admired herself in the mirror for a long beat before speaking. "You can turn around now," she said brusquely, "And tell me. . . what do you think?" Silence from Dante's corner of the room was the reply to Kate's inquiry, and Kate turned to investigate. Dante was standing, uncharacteristically slack-jawed, with his hands hanging limply at his sides and his eyes gazing at Kate's body. She smiled at him and said, "Well?"  
  
"I - ah - it's - ah. . . " he breathed, unable to find words enough to describe his thoughts on Kate's gown. "Kate. . . it's. . . you look marvelous," he finally managed, and took one faltering step forward. The black velvet gown fit Kate like a second-skin from shoulder to waist, whence it cascaded from her hips in a veil of shimmering elegance framed by silver thread. The low neck cut just exactly between Kate's breasts, her milky-white skin exposed for all to see, and hanging perfectly at her throat was the necklace they'd purchased just that morning. And, with her long hair pulled away from her face in a simple, yet elegant braid, she was the epitome of beauty. "Gods. . . ." He took another step forward, seeming to have found his feet again, and Kate closed the distance between them in a breath. "Would that I could keep you from that Banquet," he said softly, as though afraid that the angel before him might vanish if he spoke too loudly, "I'd like nothing more than to have you all to myself, but-"  
  
"A promise is a promise," Kate finished for him, and stroked his cheek with her fingers, "And I understand."  
  
Reluctantly, Dante pulled away from her, but not before placing a soft kiss upon Kate's cheek. "Come," he said, and pulled her toward the door, "I'll escort you to the Hall." Only then - as the two of them left the room - did Kate notice that the white clothing Dante was wearing looked strikingly different than it had earlier. There was a distinct formality to the ensemble; Kate noted much more embroidery, and this was made of silk instead of wool like the more worn clothing she'd seen him in earlier. Dante noted her stares and smiled. "They're my formal Whites," he explained, linked arms with Kate and strolled toward the Old Palace, where the Hall was located. "I rarely get the chance to wear them, but the Queen decided that I should attend Court tonight, too."  
  
"Is that so?"  
  
"Yes. Since you planned on attending, and I was the one who volunteered to go after you, she decided I should come with you."  
  
That thought comforted Kate quite a bit, and she no longer dreaded sitting in a Hall full of strangers who'd be staring at the Princess from OutKingdom. If Dante was there. . . .  
  
:And don't forget me, Chosen. I'll always be here if you need me.:  
  
:How could I forget someone like you?: Kate smiled to herself.  
  
"Here we are," Dante interrupted Kate's thoughts, "Now, you just go through those doors and make your way up to the High Table, I'll be in soon. You'll be sitting in the place of honor, which is on the-"  
  
"Dante, I'm a Princess. I know where the seat of honor is."  
  
"Oh. Right. Well -- I'll see you in a moment, then!" He waved cheerily and watched Kate let herself into the Hall before hurrying off. When Kate entered, the clamor of voices died down a bit. Not so much that a layman would notice, but to a young woman so used to noting small differences in everything around her, the change was immense. In fact, she thought she could distinctly hear a woman on one end of a table ask, in what she no doubt thought was a subdued voice, "Who on earth is THAT, Cedric?"  
  
'Let them talk,' she thought to herself, let her eyes scan the room only once before making her way up to the High Table and seating herself - after a guardsman pulled out her chair - in the place of honor, to the right of the Queen's chair. Somewhere on the other side of the room, a bell rang, and the chatting died down a bit. From the curtains hanging directly behind Kate, Dante appeared, and pulled the Queen's chair away from the table just as the woman herself stepped into view. She smiled warmly at everyone in the Hall, and sat down as someone announced, "Her Majesty, Queen Selenae, and Queen's Own Herald, Dante Taite." 


	24. 24

Forced to remain composed in front of all of the nobles in the room, Kate could not leap to her feet and shout, 'Queen's Own!?' at Dante. Instead she looked at him incredulously, her eyes wide, and a confusing shade of green-silver that looked rather daunting. Why hadn't he said anything? Why did he hide it from her? Did he think Kate wouldn't be able to handle the news???  
  
:Perhaps he thought you would think badly of him, if you knew what he was to the Queen?:  
  
:But - why would he think that!?:  
  
:You come from a royal line, and high rank appears to be something you loathe.:  
  
:I don't loathe it! I hated the only people I knew who had the status at the time.:  
  
:But you see, Dante cannot tell these things on his own. . . .:  
  
She drummed her fingers on the table, the Queen smiled at her and leaned politely over. "How was your day, Kate?" The first course of the meal was placed before them on shining silver platters, and Kate eyed the food a moment before replying casually, "It was interesting, Majesty."  
  
"Please, call me Selenae? I'd like to consider us friends, you and I."  
  
Friends? Kate narrowed her gaze as though attempting to see what the woman was thinking. "Okay." she said slowly, helping herself to a spoonful of the soup that'd been ladled into her bowl before speaking to the Queen again. "Dante and I made our way out into the city, we bought this gown and," her hand automatically lifted to the necklace at her throat, "A bit of jewelry."  
  
"And it does look smashing on you, Kate. Quite the eye-catching bit of silver!  
  
:Tell her I happen to agree with her.: came the statement from Kalia, and Kate said almost instantaneously, "Kalia says she agrees with you."  
  
"Oh? Well, she's a smart -- wait a moment. Kalia?"  
  
Kate nodded.  
  
"She told you that?"  
  
Another nod.  
  
"Kate - why didn't you tell me you'd been Chosen!?" She set her spoon down and turned in her chair, a smile on her face that nearly spanned from ear to ear. "This is wonderful! I had hoped you'd be Chosen. I half expected a Companion to rush up to you the instant you were within the city walls; I have to admit I was a little disappointed when none did!" But the look on Kate's face made her stop. "Is something wrong?"  
  
"No," Kate lied, for in truth she was a little annoyed with this endless stream of words that seemed to be pouring out of Selenae's mouth. She wasn't about to interrupt the Queen, though. Not when her very lifecould be hanging by a thread in this foreign country.  
  
:We're not like that, Kate.: This time the voice was masculine, and it was Dante's. :We don't kill people who get on our bad side, you know. We're all Heralds for a REASON.:  
  
:I'll thank you to stop eavesdropping!:  
  
:Sorry.:  
  
"Kate, this is just so exciting! I'm sorry if I seem a little giddy, but this is the stuff that legends are made of! Mark my words, child, you're going to be in the history books, someday!" Then she returned to her soup with the careful motions of someone who was working hard to keep herself high in the public esteem. Kate didn't say what she'd wanted to say in response to Selenae's prediction - which was 'Yes - I'll be the only Herald who ever burned the entire city of Haven down in one go.' - and ate her soup instead.  
  
:Burn down Haven? Certainly not!: Kalia seemed a little indignant at the thought, and Kate imagined she could feel the Companion huff and stomp a foot. :I would never allow such a thing. It's unthinkable.:  
  
:You have a habit of butting in, don't you?: There was uneasy silence on Kalia's behalf before Kate continued, :When I'm thinking to myself, it's because I want the thought to be *to myself.*:  
  
No, being Chosen, with all of it's benefits and luxuries, had not changed Kate one little bit. When the second course came around, and Kate was expected to speak with her other neighbor, she simply looked the little man over - with his squinty eyes, tiny glasses, and stubbled chin - then set herself into her food as though she was famished. The old man chattered quite blandly about anything and everything from the name of his favorite dog to the hour in which he last cleaned his glasses. "Made the frames myself!" he told her proudly, pulling them from his face and holding them out to her. Kate glanced at them and sniffed; the old man put them back on his long, knobby nose. "Silver, these are. Strong as iron, though. I made sure of THAT. No more bending!" Apparently he'd sat on his older pair one too many times, and the result was a pair of glasses that looked more like a twisted letter Z than what they were supposed to. And so it went, for another two marks. Kate talked to the Queen, then the little old man, and back again.  
  
Then when - thankfully - the meal ended, Kate was one of the first people out of the doors and into her room. She flopped herself down onto her bed, heedless of the wrinkles she was putting in her gown, and stared at the ceiling.  
  
:You were right,: she told Kalia, :I *am* too tired to go anywhere else tonight.:  
  
:In the morning, Chosen, there will be time. I'll-: there was a pause, Kalia seemed to fade for a moment, and then she continued as though nothing had happened, :-see you in the morning, okay?:  
  
There was a tap at the door. :Okay. Goodnight, Kalia.: Kate waited a moment more, hoping that perhaps the caller would go away, but when another knock - this time more forceful than the last - sounded against the door, Kate sighed and stood up. "Who is it?"  
  
"Guess."  
  
Kate leaned her head against the door and listened to the quiet on the other side. After a moment, she smiled to herself and said, "Gustavus? Or, no. That can't be you. You sound too feminine. Is it - oh! I know! Catherine! You've finally come to pay me a visit!" She threw open the door and made a very big show of disappointment at seeing Dante in her doorway. "Oh," she said unhappily, "It's you." She worked her face into a pout and folded her arms. "Well - come in, if you must."  
  
:You are so cruel to that poor boy!:  
  
:I am not. He knows I'm only kidding.:  
  
:You never joke though, Kate. He may think you're being serious!:  
  
:Oh. . . I forgot about that. Hm.:  
  
She watched Dante for a moment. He seemed completely crestfallen and apprehensive at the same time. Kate felt sorry she'd put up that facade, and her eyes shifted from violet to a deeper shade of purple - one that was almost black. She walked to him - his back was to her and he was staring steadfast into the fire - and put her hand on his shoulder. "Dante?" she said, her voice quiet and solemn.  
  
"You're that dissapointed at seeing me, Kate?" he asked, and for a moment Kate thought she could detect a hint of tears in his voice. He probably had a lump in his throat, and his eyes would be stinging. . . . Kate had held back tears often enough that she knew all of the sensations of fighting them.   
  
"No," she said, took his hands and laced her fingers with his, "No, I'm not. I wasn't disappointed, Dante, it was all in jest!" Dante's face lightened a bit, or it might have. There was always a chance that the light of the fire was playing tricks on her eyes. She continued, "I was actually very glad to hear you at my door. So glad, in fact, that it put me in a joking mood." Her eyes pleaded with him, hoping that he'd understand her and lose the hurt that she'd placed there, despite the fact that she hadn't done it on purpose. "Don't be upset!" He turned away again, pulling his hands from Kate's and looking around the room as though he hadn't been in it before. "Kate," he said, "I came here because I could tell that you were mad at me at dinner tonight."   
  
"Oh."  
  
"And I think I know the reason why. Well, at least Deyan told me that Kalia had an idea of what had you so angry. I wanted to tell you I'm sorry, Kate."  
  
"But you don't have to be s-"  
  
"Yes, I do," he interrupted her with a finger to her lips, "Because I should have told you when I met you. It would have settled a great many things right away. Of course, hindsight is always perfect."  
  
Kate nodded and looked at her feet for a moment, and it seemed that she'd forgotten that she was still in her evening gown, because it took a moment for her mind to realize that she was still in the thing. No wonder her feet were hidden. . . ! Kalia chuckled into the back of her Chosen's mind. "Look, Dante. I was mad, but I supposed you had your reasons, hey? I would have done the same thing, I think, if I were in your shoes. You're not so lucky to escape the hell they call nobility." To this, Dante chuckled and shook his head. "Will you forgive me if I forgive you, then?" Kate asked, lifting eyebrow and smirking at him.  
  
"It's a deal." The Herald held out his hand for a shake, which Kate firmly grasped and tugged, much to Dante's surprise, quite roughly. He pulled his hand away and wriggled his fingers, as though checking for breaks or bruises.   
  
"What's the matter, Dante? Was I a little too rough for you?" Smug, Kate folded her arms and grinned devilishly.   
  
"On the contrary," Dante replied, returning the verbal joust with one of his own, "I was only making sure I hadn't any dishwater on my hands." Kate set her jaw. If he wanted to play this game, she'd match - if not beat - him, wit for wit!   
  
"Don't worry your pretty little head about it," she replied, "I'm sure you did a fine job of drying your hands when you were through in the kitchen!" And the next thing she knew, there was a pillow flying in her general direction. It landed with a 'plop' only inches behind Kate, a little off to the right, and Kate siezed the opportunity for another retort. "You throw like a toddler!" she exclaimed, apparently shocked at the notion of it. "And here I thought you were a well-trained Herald. . . ." Another pillow whizzed by, missing it's target only because Kate was ready this time around; the attack was skillfully dodged. "Oh, now you're going to pay!" Kate exclaimed, grabbed a nearby, previously-thrown pillow and jettesoned it toward Dante's head. She missed, but only by inches, and Dante cackled at her from the opposite side of the room. "Is that all you've got, Kate? If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were no better at throwing than a Kyree is at writing!"  
  
"What!?" Indignant, Kate stood up and stared at Dante, her eyes wide. Then she narrowed her gaze and darted at him, full speed. Dante, who was expecting nothing more than another flying pillow, was caught off-guard when Kate crashed into him. The pair fell to the floor in a hopeless tangle of arms, legs, and a stray pillow, landing in a reverberating 'thud.' Kate was the first to recover, and so snatched the pillow from beneath Dante's left foot, then beat him over the head with it quite forcefully. "Hey!" he called from beneath the feather-filled thing, "No fair!" He shoved her away with both arms and bolted upright, pulling the pillow from his face and aiming it back at Kate, who held her arms up to guard her face from the attack. With her eyes squeezed shut, Kate waited to be flogged over the head with the pillow, but nothing happened. Perplexed, she opened her eyes, still waiting, and tried to peer through the spaces between her forearms in hopes of glimpsing what Dante was doing. No doubt he was waiting for her to become curious enough to lower her arms, but she was no fool! More time passed, though, and still no pillow landed upon her head. Instead, a gentle weight set itself on one of her arms - Dante's hand lay there, warm, strong, still, and Kate lowered her arms - carefully - so that she could look questioningly at the Herald.   
  
He was gazing at her oddly, still breathing heavily after their game of war, and uttered not a word. Kate, still in her gown, lifted her head from the floor and looked at him, her eyes studying his expression in an attempt to figure out what he was thinking. "Dante?" she said softly, and watched the man's hand move from the pillow on the floor to her other arm. Now he had both of them, one in each hand, laying on the floor at her sides. He didn't say anything, never bothering to answer the one-word question she'd put to him only seconds before, then leaned down toward Kate's face until she could feel his breath upon her cheek. "I never told you," he said quietly then, "How wonderful you look in that gown." The only thing Kate's rather muddled mind could think of in response to that statement was, 'And you're telling me this NOW?' But she held her tongue and said nothing of that sort.   
  
"Thank you," was all she whispered back to him, still unsure as to why he'd pinned her there, on the floor. Her confusion was quickly laid to rest, however, when Dante leaned nearer still and kissed Kate, very gently. His hands found their way from Kate's arms to her face; they gently took her head and lifted it as both thumbs smoothed over the soft skin on her cheeks. She, in turn, let her hands do as they pleased, which happened to be occupying themselves with finding a place to rest on Dante's waist. In what seemed like an eternity, Dante proceeded to let his soft lips trail their way down Kate's mouth, onto her chin, then along her neck and shoulders. The low neck of the gown gave him all the room he needed, and he was glad that she'd decided to leave it as low-cut as she did. It occurred to him that perhaps she left it that way with this end in mind, and decided that it wouldn't surprise him if she had. Kate missed nothing, not even the way that he now nipped at and blew softly into her ear. He kissed the side of her head, smoothed his hand down the length of the Princess's braid, then paused. "May I?" he asked, his fingers tugging at the leather cord that tied the end of the braid. At Kate's slight nod, he tugged free the knot, let loose her long cascade of black hair, and combed his fingers through it.   
  
Breathless all the while, Kate let Dante kiss his way along her neck, nape, and shoulders. She let him breathe into her ear, let chills course her whole body, let him free her hair. . . . She slowly sat up, both hands upon Dante's chest, and kissed him again, taking his roving hands and guiding them to the cord that held the dress to her body. He seemed a bit surprised at this action - perhaps he had been expecting rejection? - and carefully untied the bow, loosened the strings, and let the shoulders of the gown fall to reveal Kate's very sleek smallclothes. Then he stood up, offered Kate his hand, helped her to her feet. He guided her to the little bed in the corner of the room, paused just beside it. Kate glanced around at the candles, focused herself for a split second, and the room fell into darkness. 


	25. 25

Kate awoke just before dawn the next morning feeling a bit disoriented. There was an amused prescence in the back of her mind, and a warm body next to her in her bed. Blinking, she took a moment to go over the events of the previous day, and when she'd recounted everything that'd happened, her mood reflected that of the one that shimmered in her innermost thoughts. She was quite happy with herself.   
  
:I trust you slept well, Chosen?: The innocent inquiry was anything but, and instead of snapping waspishly back at the Companion, Kate simply smiled inwardly.   
  
:Oh yes, very well.: she replied easily, rubbed the sleep from her eyes and looked over at Dante, who was still dreaming onward and softly snoring. :And I think Dante did, as well.: She sat up slowly, propping herself against the wall with care - it was quite chilly this early in the morning, and with no fire going - the pillows were still on the floor where they'd been abandoned, the brand new gown lay in a heap somewhere near the foot of the bed. Kate yawned and scratched an itch on her bare stomach, then belatedly realized she was still quite naked. Somehow embarrassed, she hurried to dress herself in clothes that had managed to find their way into her room - a pile of gray, woolen things that she'd seen others around the collegium wearing, including Caelan. Dante sat up and blinked owlishly at Kate. "Why're you up so early?" he asked, "I think it was well past midnight before either of us got any sleep. . . ."  
  
"I'm used to running on a few hours of rest," Kate said, then realized that it made her sound quite promiscuous. "It isn't because I do this sort of thing frequently," she hastily explained, and busied herself by combing her hair and gazing at her reflecting on the mirror.  
  
"I wasn't going to say that," Dante grinned and sat up, watching Kate tie her hair into a ponytail behind her head, "But I will say this: I like your hair better when it's down." He grinned at her and watched her hesitate in tying off the rest of the cord, but at that moment, his eyes grew distant. Kate could see them perfectly in the mirror. :Kalia?: she asked, and the mare replied swiftly.   
  
:I'm already on it.: A few second passed and Kate pretended she'd never noticed that Dante had paused. :He was speaking with Deyan,: the Companion relayed, even though she knew she didn't have to share that bit of information, :And it's something very important, judging by the sudden uproar in the Field over here. . . A great many of us are heading toward the Gate - I think there must be something wrong in Haven if they're all going out at once like this.:  
  
:And what about you?:   
  
:I'm not going. You're in there, remember? And you're not a full Herald. . . you should check with Dante.:  
  
"What's going on?" Kate cut to the chase straight away, not bothering with the usual broaching of the subject. As she turned, she heard Dante stand and hastily dress. He was buckling his belt when he replied with a soft, "The Queen says she's just recieved word that there's an army on the march toward our borders. She suspects that they plan on attacking."  
  
Kate's face paled, and she hurried to him. "An army? What kind of army?"  
  
"We don't know, Kate. We only have one Herald on Circuit out there right now, and her Gift isn't FarSight. She's only got a tiny bit of Fetching, and that doesn't do anyone any good right now. It's all they can do to stay updated. I have to go," he kissed her cheek, "Selenae will be needing me right about now, and I can't afford to be absent."  
  
Kate sighed, murmured 'duty first,' then opened the door for him. "You'll tell me if anything comes up, won't you?" she asked hopefully, her grey eyes searching his momentarily.  
  
:If he doesn't, I'll pester Deyan about it and then tell you myself, Chosen.:  
  
"Don't worry, Kate," Dante was saying at the same time Kalia made her comment to Kate, "I won't leave you out of the loop, if I don't have to." And, since she knew that this was the best she was going to get out of Dante, Kate nodded and watched him leave.  
  
:Kalia!: she cried plaintively to the mare, who seemed slightly shocked that her supposedly stone-hearted Chosen sounded so forlorn, :I know exactly who's marching on Valdemar!:  
  
:What?:  
  
:There's no one else it could be!: she said, throwing herself upon her bed and staring out of her window at the wide band of greenish-gray that meant the sun would be rising within a few minutes. :My father would have been furious that his plans hadn't gone according to plan, and he'd want to capture the man who rescued me and have us both killed. I've been here for more than enough time for him to have had his army marched over here. . . this is horrible!:  
  
:Kate, you have to tell somebody this!: Sudden movement out in the Field caught Kate's eye, and she realized that Kalia had been standing near the fence for quite some time.   
  
:I'm coming out to see you. Wait for me.:  
  
:Of course.:  
  
She threw on her shoes, didn't bother to add a cloak to her ensemble, and hurried out of her door and into the chill pre-dawn air. Vaulting the fence was an easy task; Kate found herself in the company of her Companion in under a minute - she'd nearly run out into the Field the moment her feet hit the gravelled pathway leading from the Collegium. "I can't believe I didn't think of this sooner!" she cried at Kalia, "I should have known he'd send someone after me! I was so STUPID to think that he'd just leave well enough alone!"  
  
:You were injured, rendered incapable of coherant thought for several days - on behalf of that medicine the Healers poured into you at regular intervals - and still in shock! Having been saved from certain doom mere seconds before you met it can be quite terrible on a person's mind. You didn't have the time, nor the energy, to think about anything other than the present, Chosen. No one will blame you, least of all me or Dante.:  
  
:I know, but what about the rest of them? They already think I'm some sort of monster.:  
  
:Maybe you shouldn't have poured soup all over that page, hm?:  
  
:Hey! You said it yourself, I was in no condition to think about anything but the present. You can't blame me for that!:  
  
Cornered, Kalia didn't reply straight away. Instead, she fell silent for a little while. When she finally spoke again, it was after a long sigh. :I'll consult with Ryvael. Selenae's his Chosen - he can relate everything to her without needing your prescence.:  
  
:Thank you, Kalia.: Kate leaned heavily against the fence post and watched Kalia, waiting for the mare to complete her little conversation. Meanwhile, she tapped her foot against a post, coiled her hair around one finger, and let a thousand and one thoughts, most of them relating to how Kate would be punished for forgetting to mention that her father would be seeking revenge on her rescuers, run through her mind. Moments later, a flashy stallion cantered up to both of them. :This is Ryvael,: Kalia explained, nodding her head at him and stepping aside a bit. Another voice, this one deep and robust, reverberated into Kate's head so forcefully that she felt dizzy the moment he finished speaking.   
  
:Well met and well come, Kayatice.: the voice said, and the stallion bowed his graceful head at her before continuing. :The Queen has been informed of your information and theories, and even as we speak, she is sending for word from the Herald on Circuit. Hopefully we will have an answer soon. My Selenae has asked for more information on the appearance of the soldiers. She supposes that you will know their insignia and colours, if they were described to you. Is this correct?:  
  
Kate nodded, slowly so as not to further rattle her head, and swallowed.  
  
:Very good. If you like, I can wait here with you, or I can take my leave of you, and Kalia can relay the information to you herself.: His gaze bored into Kate's, and the young lady felt as though he could see into her skull and read her thoughts like words in a book.   
  
:I think I'd like it if Kalia relayed the information, sir,: she replied a little uneasily, :No offense, but your mindvoice is a little unsettling. . . .:  
  
:You see, Ryvael? It isn't just me that thinks so.: Kalia snorted, obviously finding this latest bit of news very funny, and the stallion flicked his ears briefly backwards. Kate got the impression that we was blushing, despite the fact that it was impossible for a Companion to do so. At least, she thought it was. Fur couldn't change it's color the way skin could, right?  
  
:I shall leave the two of you alone, then,: the stallion replied, with a twinkle in his eye, and winked at Kate. :If I hear anything, I'll get the news to you as soon as I am able. How does that suit?:  
  
:Suits me,: Kalia and Kate replied in unison.   
  
:Good, good. I bid you both a good morning; we'll be in touch shortly.:  
  
Not knowing exactly why, Kate waved at Ryvael as he sauntered off, only lowering her arm to her side again after he'd vanished behind a few trees in the distance. 


	26. NOTICE

((Author's Note: Wow... this story kinda got left in the dust, didn't it? Well -- guess what? I'm rewriting it! Oh, don't worry, I'm not going to make any drastic changes to the parts of the story you're familiar with, but now I don't have loose ends and dead-end plots! Whoopie!

Oh -- and look for the story under the new title of "Assassin's Blade"

Thanks!))


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